#that evil laugh is impeccable

[i-cant-be-trusted-alone]

rewatching my little pony

Vee really likes Nightmare Moon lmao

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Somnophilia smut with Sol? Reader doesn't wake up (Tʖ̯T)

No Rest for the Wicked (Sol x MC/Reader - Somnophilia Smut)

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PRESENTING TO THE STAGE, YOUR FAVOURITE TKATB WRITER !!!

SKY FORTRESSES AND BURNING CITADELS, WITH A LONGTIME-AWAITED, PROMISED SOLIVAN BRUGMANSIA S.M.U.T.!

*bows*

Anyway, just a reminder this is rape, non-consented, probably slightly OOC, and I'm a (slightly more than) tad rusty in writing. I've also never written smut before, so do give feedback if you deem it necessary. Toodles, my sexy motherfuckers.

You could even say I came back with a bang. ;)

P.S. Also the M/C is written as a virgin in this, if your character isn't then congratulations! They hid their previous sexual escapades impeccably well, for Sol to not know.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Wicked: evil or morally wrong.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room was pitch black, so heavily ensnared in the gaping shade of the darkened night that even shadows disappeared under its tarlike veil. Any ordinary, random burglar would be blindly stumbling about like an idiot, if they happened upon your apartment with…impure intentions.

Sol wasn’t a burglar, and he was definitely not ordinary. He wasn’t a mindless passerby on the streets, with a forgettable face and unassuming nature. Sure, he acted the part well, played the weak-minded shy kid well. But that act, that mask? It’s for the faces that litter his vision, that plague his sight and try to distract him from his goal, his mission, his messiah.

Faces that exist as a way to try and deter him from his forever, from his life and his bride, from his venerant Annabel Lee.

You.

He’s saving his true, adaptable, self for you. He’s willing to morph into anyone for you, alter himself, hurt himself if you so merely asked!

You could ask him to kill for you and he wouldn’t even blink until said soul was eviscerated; and their body exsanguinated and dumped in an outskirt lake.

He was the only one for you, your only soulmate, your only lover, your only.

So why did you always neglect him? Ignore him; spend time with him as a last resort, all in favour of that insignificant bastard-born slug?!

What did he have that Sol didn’t? Hmm? 

The queries began to flood his mind, onslaught his body. He barked out a laugh, a cold, brisk sound that reverberated across the walls, before cruelly biting the skin of his knuckles.

Hush, can’t have you wake up now darling, not when you’re so serene and at ease.

He didn’t want to do anything bad to you, of course not, he loves you…! But even the best of lovers need to be taught a lesson…or seven.

Boots softly thud against your floor, their path marked by years of memory and intuition, and like normal, he makes his way to your bedside.

Sol might not be able to see you, but he doesn’t need to. He already knows how you sleep, he remembers the precise dosage of medication he needs to do this…he’s all set…

Yet the longer he stands there, the more time ticks by him, gently ageing you both second by second closer to a fated death, he was struck by an epiphany:

Why the fuck should he settle for this? He’s been in the darkness long enough.

The kid at the back.

The afterthought.

The forgotten face of the world.

If Jericho Ichabod gets to see you…then so shall fucking he.

In a bout of ornery, he ditched his boots and marched into the lightless expanse of your lounge. He knew you had a torch hidden somewhere, might as well finally make use of it. 

Like he will of you.

Most people would’ve already ditched or aimlessly clambered around; but Sol wasn’t most people. He knew your residence inside out, all of them.Each place, grandiose or minimalistic, apartment or house. No matter where you go, he’s always watching, tonight’s just a little more…intimate, a touch closer than his usual escapades.

His hand softly searched the drawers, each soft click sent a thrilling chill down his spine, his body shuddered as he tactfully manoeuvred his way about the room. His fingers casually map each surface, fondling for anything remotely cylindrical…until, after what felt like millenia, he finds it. How lucky.

A lava lamp. Bright enough to see you, dim enough to not awaken you; and look at that…it’s red, like his eyes, like his lips…like his cock.

Were you thinking of me, beloved?

With methodical steps, silent as the grave, he strode back to you, placed the lamp in the closet door…and by God’s holy grail was he once more rendered stunned.

The soft crimson rays paint your frame in a way he prayed to one day replicate, with his own blood, perhaps? Paint wouldn’t be enough to perfectly capture your divine essence. 

Your lips look so fucking good. 

He wanted to have you so damn badly it hurt.

And he would’ve…until something crossed his peripherals.

A small photo, about the size of his palm, lay tucked away on your bedside drawer.

To say Sol was intrigued by this was an understatement, and his bubbling wonder continued to froth as he took in the details of this quaint square and halted. 

All intrigue turned to rage, white and hot like his flesh and it pelted his mind like hail on an abandoned car; before an idea, comical as it was repulsive, crept into the depraved depths of his mind.

What better way to avenge himself than make the whore see? See how much better he is, both in appearance and in bed?

A lifeless grin moulded into his face, Sol positioned the photo to ensure it stared right at him; The slug isn’t worthy of seeing the pretty things you’ll do; he thought.

He bored his eyes into ones of disgusting cobalt, before turning down to the grandest feast of his life.

Slender fingers, corpse-like in colour, caressed your face, measuring once more the map that is your body, his eyes hungrily raking over your sleeping form.

Against his better judgement, he lowers his head and drags his tongue, languid and unhurried, across your neck, his teeth softly rubbing across your zen pulse. 

He swiftly rose up, his face burning and his breaths stuttering; all the while his cock —  like the night before, and the one before that — began to fucking ache, straining horribly against his pants, almost begging to be allowed freedom from its constant confines. 

The urge to tear off your clothes and piston himself so deep inside you that your body would refuse any other dick was so tempting. The mere thought made a small wet spot appear, yet Sol would take his time, after all, this was merely you making up for teasing him, right?

Fuck it.

In one swift motion, he’s at your side, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his hand casually dived under your shirt, worming its way towards the mounds that lay atop your angelic heart; but you couldn’t possibly blame him, they’re so malleable and beautiful; just like you!

He inhaled sharply, before closing his eyes and stifling a pathetic whimper.

You smell so fucking good.

His whole body was like a bomb, ticking away until either his time runs out and he leaves to care for himself elsewhere, or until he allows himself to… indulge.

If Ichabod got to revel in your presence, then so shall he.

“Mhh??”

Shit.

He froze, his body arched over you, his hoodie half off, exposing his burnt abdomen, carmine circles and purple dots peppering him like seasoning. 

Ahh…you told me I was beautiful in your eyes once…but I won’t risk you rejecting me from these, darling.

Another reason why he loved you oh-so much. You’re so pristine, so pure, so perfect that it stung. He didn’t deserve you, he wasn’t remotely close to reaching the bar of whom someone like you should have; but he didn’t care anymore. You were here, beneath him.

And he was going to have you if it’s the last thing he ever does.

Soon enough, his mouth returned to your pulse, suckling on the throbbing flesh and his teeth cautiously caging the arteries, until a mark — angry red like the burns that paint his skin — started to blossom.

His hand inched up your breast, the pads of his chilled fingers encircled your areolas, the nips hardened and prodded at him, begging to be pleasurably satiated — and satiate he inevitably would.

He swiftly moved to straddling you, this time in entirety, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on your torso. When you’re lying so prettily before him it was almost too easy to forget how much bigger than you he was, how small and dainty and delicate you were compared to him.

Using his other hand to lift your nightshirt to your collarbones, Sol redirected himself fully to your breasts, his teeth grazing over the buds before rapidly digging them into the warm fat, his nails clawing at your sides like they were pencils upon a blank canvas and the artist had the eureka of a lifetime.

His face felt torrid, his whole body felt like it’d been set ablaze and he’d barely started.

Look at what you’ve turned me into, but I’m not complaining, how can I?

Sol suddenly wished he was a snake, so he could coil around your body forever, his fangs lodged in either your neck or tits, while his tip would remain buried so deeply within you that you’d forget what it meant to move normally.

But hey, he could still do one of those things. The drugs are significantly stronger this time.

As if to test the waters, he delicately shifted your blouse off of you, tossing it somewhere else on the bed whilst he — perverted as he knew he was — admired your figure, his hands mellowly brushing your arms and kneading your curves, wanting to ingrain this image of you for the rest of his life.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. How are you so pretty?”

His cock was shrieking now, hell, he was struggling to contain himself. But he could hold off a little longer, right?

No. No I can’t.

His hands weren’t even his anymore, by the time he’d ceased gazing at you, his belt was being yanked out and he was aggressively tugging his pants down, a sharp slap! bouncing off the walls as his dick emerged from its confines, dribbles of translucent white steadily seeped out the shroomy head. 

He inched closer to you, deciding to fully ditch his clothes as he tenderly brought your hands into his. He covered them each in kisses, suckled on your fingertips, before guiding them towards his throbbing crotch, your fingers tightly clutched onto it; it’s like you’ve wanted this as much as him!

Shit. Fuck. Fuck you’re so pretty.

Blanketing your fingers with his longer ones, Sol slowly pumped himself into your palm, his whole body almost falling on top of you with how violently he shook at the sheer magnitude of carnal pleasure that coursed through his veins.

A pitiful whine emitted from his tongue as he commenced vigorously propelling himself into your hand, the drastic change in speed and temperament making the sensations nearly overwhelming. 

It forced him to hold his weight up over you; like his arm was a pillar to a divine shrine, one that he deems you more than worthy of. But he supposed this is the best way to be close to a god, to worship a god.

Shit, I love you. I love you so much, you don’t know how crazed I get when it comes to you.

Sol turned to the small picture of Ichabod, before looking respectlessly at the view under him, and smirked.

From his nigh-omniscience when it comes to you, Sol knows you’ve never had sex, and he’d be damned if your first would be Crowe.

He continued to piston himself into your palm, contemplating whether he should move on…elsewhere, while he could. 

Your hands weren’t gonna be enough, he wanted Ichabod to see him fucking you, making love to you; you didn’t have to be conscious, you’d still love him either way. 

Sol relished in the thought, as his thrusts grew erratic and variable, his abs clenching and his arms locking in as he prepared to release, to paint his magnum opus — to paint you white with his cum.

I love you, I love you so much, I want you so much, you’re everything to me IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

He moaned, gripped your hand and placed a messy kiss to your lips, using his other appendage to pump faster and faster, until his body physically stuttered into it —  until his whole being shattered, and a fountain of his sperm splattered onto your skin, leaving your body glistening under the vermillion light of the lamp.

But Sol wasn’t done this time, for how could he be? He had to make sure nobody got to you before he did.

He kissed you again, his tongue diving into your mouth, exploring the wet cavern, his hand — the one that formerly served as a buttress — coming down to the band of  your shorts, his fingers gently prying them down with your panties, and judging by its appearance, it was one of the few he hadn’t touched — how cute. It’s like you wanted him to gather every garment that’s pressed against your core, that felt your slick as you touched yourself.

Gah, the thought of your fingers buried inside you, toying with your clit, playing with your tits.

Anything you do arouses him, but the thought, oh fuck him, the thought of you using yourself whilst thinking of him — like he about you — makes him feral.

Without even thinking, he plunged two digits into your pussy, silently (s)creaming at how smoothly they entered. 

Your body knows it’s mine, hahah! Fuck…you’re hot.

Pressing a thumb to your clit and his other hand over your mouth, Sol feels himself going sexdrunk, watching in slick satisfaction the squelches and pretty little Os your hole made around him, trying to crush his bones and slurp them into its warmth, as if it wanted him there forever. Not that he mind, he’d curl up inside you and live as your sentient sex toy if he had his way.

He sighs, his cock turning a brutal shade of red as his eyes observe the beauty that lay within how well cocooned he is inside you, and that’s with his fingers!

Repositioning your wrists so that he could comfortably hold them in one of his own, he redirects his attention to your pussy, thrusting with vehement pleasure into your depths, feeling your wet rapture on his skin, and his pace only increases; like fire on drywood.

The flames of his lust for you, the burning pyre of his love for you, it wasn’t enough in his eyes to see you so shortly each night. It shouldn’t be normal for him, he wanted to take you, to have and hold and love and worship and admire and caress you each day and night, for all his life until both of your ephemeral existences fell by the threads and you both lie in a shared sepulchre next to the sea.

He goes faster, his thumb circling the fleshy nub with affection, a small whimper stirring from your lips.

“Mh…C-crowe?”

Sol ceases, ears alert, eyes widened as he realised whose name you uttered.

Hah. Hahahahah. That motherfucker.

He was gonna go nice and soft on you, gonna be loving to you; but clearly, clearly you needed a little…reminder, of whose thick, fat, juicy cock was inside you.

Removing his sticky fingers, Sol tore apart your thighs, his nails etched so callously in your flesh he barely registered the groan that slipped past your mouth.

Crowe huh? My gorgeous darling, you’re so beautiful but you should know you can’t say such vile things.

He moved his cock with a tenderness towards your gaping entrance, the head brushing against your labia, a waterfall of gasps tumbling out of his mouth as the contact — evasive yet so direct — sent rushes of cold adrenaline down his spine, making him arch himself into you, searching for the closeness he’d wanted for so long.

Cupping your hand in his, he forced himself deep inside you, an onslaught of euphoria surging past any potential despondencies he might’ve had and he slammed his lips onto yours, the slapping of skin and the popping of each entry and exit his cock made out of you left him dazed in the sensual chorus of a symphony built upon ecstasy.

Even in all the times Sol’s touched himself to you, fucked himself into your undergarments or clothes, he’s never thought how immaculately well you fit around him, as if you were the warm, tight nut to his aching, etched bolt.

He was in pain, a beloved pain that came only from first love and lust, his heart screaming as he kissed your lips again and again, squeezing the life out of your hands as he muttered an obsessive, possessive manta:

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

He spent so many years waiting in eager anticipation for you to be his — to feel this sick love that he felt for you — like he was yours, and now, now he had you, claimed you. He wished Crowe was here so he could spit down his stupid throat. The idea felt tempting, maybe Hyugo could help him one more time.

But that’s for later, he’s with you now, and nothing is more invaluable to Solivan Brugmansia than you.

He couldn’t cease his gratifying motions, his suppressed moans, or the blitzes of unfiltered joy that rained down his face as he cried; fell apart both bodily and soulfully. His lips fell to your neck again and he marked you, tainted your priceless flesh with his teeth, contaging you with the plague that long since infested his mind.

His thrusts grew sloppier, his body was boiling as he stuttered out a hushed whimper:

Shit, I love you, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I love you so much-

And with a sharp bite to your shoulder, a callous bracelet of bruises to your wrists, and blood seeping from your swollen lips, Sol came deep within your heat — oceans of his desire-fueled suspension tumbling about inside you, painting you in white, his dove-white passion. For you.

Only you.

Yet as the waves of his lust left him spent and empty, he rose his sweating body above your form, tears running down his pallid face, and cupped your cheek.

He knew he should clean you up before he loses himself once more, but whilst he remained buried within you — his kingdom, filled with the seas of his undying adoration, he turned to the photo of Jericho Ichabod, yanked it off the wooden surface — and tore it to shreds.

[pickingupmymercedes]

I need you to let me go - Lewis Hamilton

Sequence: Not just a pretty face / I need you to let me go / Fly on my own / Leap of faith (bonus)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: angsty

wordcount: +2K

a/n: It's not even a slowburn atp, just pure longing and angst. Anyway, do we want a happy ending or just pure heartbreak and right person wrong time trope?

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

_______________________________________

The air thrummed with a deafening bass beat, the pulsating lights painting the faces in the opulent ballroom with a kaleidoscope of colors.

Y/n felt the familiar unease crawl up her arms. Parties like this were a necessary evil, a way to keep her father's business connections happy. But that night, the forced smiles and meaningless conversations felt unbearable. Her eyes flitting across the room, searching for the familiar dark hair she had seen before, a hint of that easy swagger that always seemed to draw her gaze.

Lewis stood laughing to a corner, his arm casually draped around the waist of a blonde model. Y/n recognized her from his Instagram baddies rounds; someone with a penchant for fame, fast cars and the medal that was having Lewis Hamilton for a weekend.

A sharp annoyance twisted in her stomach, but not jealousy, not exactly. It was more a bitter disappointment, a confirmation of something she'd always knew but had been trying to ignore. Lewis, the man who often made her world tilt on its axis, was just like the others and their list of conquests.

She straightened her back, forcing a smile onto her lips as a group of her father's associates approached. They were a predictable bunch – men with oil money dripping from their tailored suits, wives adorned with enough diamonds to blind those who didn’t know any better.

The conversation followed a familiar script – pleasantries about the weather, questions on her father, on who would take after his business, about her "jet-setting lifestyle." Y/n answered with practiced ease, her mind already a million miles away.

But then a voice cut through the monotonous drone. "Y/n! Looking as radiant as ever."

She turned to see Francis Chrysler, heir to a automobile empire and carrying his family name on that party, much like Y/n. They had known each other since they were kids, Y/n would travel up north to spend summer in the Hamptons with her grandmother and Francis would meet his parents in the US, back from his bordering school in the UK.

Y/n couldn’t deny he was something. Tall, impeccably dressed, and with a smile that could charm the birds from the trees, Francis was exactly the type of man everyone hoped she’d marry – stable, successful, from a “good family” and undeniably the type to merge her family’s fortune to even deeper riches.

But that night, he was also the perfect tool for the job at hand.

"Francis" she replied, a touch of coolness in her voice. "Lovely to see you."

The blonde took her hand, his fingers lingering a beat too long. "I must say, I didn’t expect to see you in the city so early in the year."

" You know me too well. I’d much rather stay in California until it’s warm enough up here" she said, her eyes scanning the room again. Lewis was gone, the blonde model nowhere to be seen.

“But duty called?” Francis focused his gaze on her, trying to get her to look at him before he touched her arm “Something like that” she finally conceded, looking up at him with a warm but emotionless smile.

The rest of the night was a blur of champagne flutes and hollow conversations. Francis, was attentive, even charming in his way. But his attentions only served to highlight the hollowness that echoed inside her.

Lewis's fleeting stares, the way his eyes seemed to see right through her meticulously facade - those were the things she craved, the things she couldn't have.

As the party started to wind down, Y/n found an excuse to slip away. She needed air, needed a moment of sanity away from the suffocating atmosphere and maybe some fresh air from her own mind.

Stepping outside onto the balcony, she took a deep breath of crisp night air. The city lights shimmered below, a glittering reminder of everything she was supposed to aspire. But all she could think about was how her mind and heart could never reach an agreement.

A sudden movement near the edge of the balcony caught her eye. Lewis stood there by himself, leaning against the railing, his face hidden in the shadows. A surge of conflicting emotions coursed her as she noticed he too studied her face – relief, anger, hope.

"Lewis," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Enjoying the company, Y/n?" His voice was a low murmur, his hands gripping a bit too tight against the metal bar.

The question was laced with a playful challenge, a reminder of her earlier display with Francis as they talked and his hand rested a bit too low on her waist. "I manage" she replied, forcing a lightness that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"So, I see," he said, his gaze dropping to where the blonde’s hand had been. A flicker of something dark crossed his face before it was quickly masked by a charming smile. "He seems...familiar with you."

"He's harmless" Y/n said dismissively, the lie bitter on her tongue.

"Didn’t look like that" Lewis countered, his voice taking on a serious edge.

They stood there, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air. Y/n, unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer, broke eye contact.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Y/n" Lewis said, his voice laced with amusement.

She scoffed. "Jealousy? Don't flatter yourself, Lewis. You can have your little arm candy."

His amusement vanished, replaced by a coldness that made her shiver. "Is that what he was then? Your arm candy?"

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Y/n knew she was playing a dangerous game, one that probably wouldn’t end well.

"Why the charade, Y/n?" He took a step closer, the air crackling with unspoken tension. "Why the forced smiles?"

"Maybe," she countered, her voice holding steadier than she felt "because I'm tired of the stolen glances and the late-night texts that lead to nothing."

Lewis stared at her; his expression unreadable. She could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, processing her outburst.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Don't tell me you haven't felt it too, Lewis. The frustration, the longing. We dance around each other like moths to a flame, but neither one of us dares to get burned."

He remained silent; his jaw clenched tight. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse. "What do you want, Y/n? Because honestly, I have no idea anymore. It was never a secret how I feel about you."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. Here it was, the question she both dreaded and craved.

The answer, however, remained a tangled mess of emotions.

"I..." she started, then stopped.

There was the comfortable life she'd always known, the endless jet-setting, the security of her family's wealth. The power she carried with her from a very young age. A power her mother had taught her to never take for granted. To never trade for a man.

But then there was Lewis, her very own whirlwind of passion and ambition who challenged everything she thought she knew and wanted. He was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. And she couldn’t stand the possibility of changing a single inch of him, even if he offered.

"I don't know," she finally admitted, a tear rolling down her cheek. A truth so raw and honest it took her by surprise to being able to say out loud.

Lewis reached out, brushing the tear away with his thumb. His touch a reminder of their connection that transcended words. For a moment, they were lost in each other's eyes, a silent peace hanging in the air.

"But you want something" he pressed gently.

She nodded, unable to speak through the lump in her throat. Part of her yearned for a life intertwined with his, a life with the adrenaline he came intertwined with. The other though, craved stability, a future that she could plan about.

"Why are we doing this, Lewis?" she blurted out, finally turning to face him fully again. "This game of… of pretending we don't care."

His jaw clenched briefly, a flicker of frustration mirroring her own. "Because," he began, his voice low and controlled, "because it's easier than this. Easier than admitting what this is."

He gestured vaguely between them; the unspoken truth thick in the air.

"And what exactly is this, then, Lewis?" she challenged, a tremor in her voice finally showing the faltering of her walls.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers, and with each step, the temperature between them seemed to rise, Y/n not backing the slightest.

"It's frustrating, isn't it?" Y/n spoke the words hanging in the air, her voice barely a whisper.

"It's torture," he corrected her, his voice raw with emotion. "Seeing you with someone else..." He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. The implication hanging heavy. Y/n felt his pain echo within her, a bittersweet recognition.

His eyes searched hers, a silent plea hanging between them. He wanted her, she knew that much. But the fear of disrupting their fragile equilibrium, of sacrificing their comfortable charade, held them both captive.

A wave of despair washed over Y/n. They were caught in a never-ending loop, dancing around their desires, afraid to take the leap.

"Then why do we keep doing this?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why do we keep pretending?"

He reached out, his thumb tenderly brushing at her hand.

"Because," he said, his voice barely above a murmur, "because even this… even this agonizing dance is better than not having you at all."

"Is it?" she questioned, the tears she had tried so fiercely to keep in finally spilling over. "Because all this yearning is slowly breaking me."

He flinched at her words, the pain in her eyes mirroring his own. They stood there, bathed in the city’s lights, the weight of unspoken desires and the reality of their relationship created a suffocating silence between them.

Finally, Y/n took a step back, pulling away from his touch. The physical distance mirroring the emotional chasm that seemed to be growing between them.

“I can keep you in the dark, Lewis. You deserve love. And I can’t give you that. Not right now” The look of raw vulnerability on his face tore at her heart, but she knew she was right. They couldn't keep living in this state of perpetual longing.

"Y/n, I’m not a child, I know what I’m getting myself into" he began, his voice laced with annoyance. But she held up a hand, silencing him.

"I need to go" she choked out, turning away from him before she crumbled completely.

Without another word, she walked back inside, the party lights blurring with the tears that she fought so valiantly to hold in.

Weeks later y/n found herself sneaking into a european f1 paddock late at night on a Friday.

The roar of the engine had long been replaced by the sterile hiss of the garages closing around them. It was a sound she would normally hate, a constant reminder of the world that made Lewis impossible to her.

But that night, it was a chilling and fitting melody to accompany the hollowness in her chest that threaded to swallow her.

They hadn't spoken in almost a month. Not since the party and since their talk, the one that shattered the fragile peace they'd managed to balance.

His silence was a language she knew all too well, a tapestry woven with disappointment and unspoken blame, his and hers.

She watched him from across the dimly lit garage, the harsh overhead lights glinting off at his temple. He looked beautiful, untouchable, a goddamn champion shrouded in the shadows.

It was a sight that would've probably lighten something in her, a reminder of why she kept coming back.

But tonight, all she felt was a cold dread.

"I need your help Lewis.” she whispered, the words a plea and a surrender all at once. The air hanging heavy, thick with the unspoken truth that both refused to accept it.

His eyes flickered to hers, surprise quickly replaced by a steely glint. He opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his lips as she continued. “I need you to let me go”

Maybe he saw it too, the raw vulnerability etched on her face, the fear that threatened to consume her.

"Because honestly," she murmured, her voice barely above a choked sob, "I haven’t been able to do it on my own”

The words hung in the air, a desperate confession that shattered the carefully constructed walls around her heart. Lewis took a hesitant step towards her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Y/n?" His voice was rough, laced with something that sounded suspiciously like hope.

She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. "Nobody gets me like you" she choked out, the words echoing the hurt in the duty she felt to follow her better judgment instead of her heart.

It was a messy confession, a tangle of contradictions and unspoken desires. But in the quiet of the garage, under the harsh glare of the lights, it felt like the only truth that mattered.

Lewis closed the distance left between them, his arms enveloping her in a warmth that chased away the chill that had settled in her bones since that NYC night.

There were no answers, just the echo of a question hanging in the air, a question that they both knew neither had the answer to. But for those moments, in the fragile space between letting go and holding on, they hung to a sliver of solace, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way out.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Better Of Two Evils

Summary: After Damian’s flirty nature comes to life, you’re left to deal with its aftermath with no other than the Demon King and his Human vessel.

Pairings: Bálor x F!Reader x Finn

Warnings: +18, smut, slight heresy, mentions of worship, p in v, oral (f receiving), curse words, slight dom x sub.

A/N: This is my birthday gift for the amazing @theworldofotps , she wanted a sequel to Salome so I hope you like it, babe. I wish you nothing but the best in your new journey and I hope it’s filled with all good things one can have in life! I love you so much, thank you for being my friend, and for being one of the most amazing people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet in my life. You truly deserve the world and I hope you have an amazing day love ya.

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @mjfass , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore

Of Damian’s flirty nature, you were already aware of, not only because of Finn’s endless warnings but also because you’ve witnessed the Puerto Rican man’s charm over women a handful of times now.

Damian flirts with everyone, literally everyone. No matter the age, gender, or ethnicity, he always found a way to captivate whomever he interacted with. And it was no different with you.

“Wow, mami” Damian whistled when you entered through the club’s back door. “You’re gonna give a man a heart attack”.

Your outfit was less than impressive, since it was a low night at the club you decided for a more casual look: a navy blue velvet tracksuit, along with a pair of black All Stars summed up your outfit for the night.

“Always a charmer, huh?” You chuckled, unaware that Finn was approaching you from behind.

“What can I say?” Damian smirked “A beautiful woman has the power to bring out the best in me”

“And your best is to be an ultimate flirt?” You narrowed your eyes playfully

“When it comes to you, yeah” the amused wide grin on Damian’s face was more than enough to make you giggle.

“You’re a menace, sir”

“Sir?” His eyes widened in surprise, not wasting the opportunity to tease you further. “Mami, if you’re gonna start calling me that then we just might have to go upstairs right now” Damian winked at you with a smirk plastered on his lips. “I’ll even rent the VIP room, just for you”.

Now you have to laugh. A little more than you should’ve, but who could blame you? The guy had great timing and impeccable humor.

“Wow, how could I say no to that” Your nonchalant tone left no room for doubt that you took his teasing in an amicable way, similar to two siblings poking fun at each other, you had no intentions of taking this to a more intimate level, and neither did Damian. It was all lighthearted. Everyone knew that, everyone could see that, except them. To them, this suddenly became a pissing contest, a dispute, a challenge. One they never lost and didn’t intend to lose.

“The shipping of new furniture arrived this morning, Priest”. The doubled voice resonated from your lover’s body, the tenor contrasting with the bass as both voices complimented each other with each word. “Go unpack it…now”.

“Isn’t that Dominik’s j-“

“I said NOW!” The bass voice screamed, settling its dominance. Finn’s eyes began to shift colors. One remained blue as the other turned a fierce shade of orange-red.

“Ok, Boss” Damian set his hands up as a sign of submission. “Chill out”.

Before Damian could even blink, Finn stood in front of him. His face got so close to Damian’s that they almost seemed the same height.

“If you ever dare to tell me to ‘chill out’ again, those will be your last words in this pitiful earth before you become hellhound’s breakfast!” The demon left no room for debate. Bálor learned how to tolerate humans after being in Finn’s body for over 40 years, that didn’t mean he liked them or that he wouldn’t kill one for fun. The only human Bálor seemed to truly like was you, but that could easily change if his pride is on the line.

“Bálor, he was just-“

“Silence!” He growled at you, voice bubbling with hatred, “If you dare to speak one word to defend him, little girl, you’ll know a side of me that you’ll wish you’d never met!” His fiery gaze fixed on you as he pointed to Finn’s room. “Go and wait for us there, and don’t make me repeat myself!”.

Reluctantly, you walked up the stairs, mouthing “I’m sorry” to Damian as you reached the top.

If there was a god, you were praying to him now, silently begging him not to let Bálor hurt Damian just because of a lighthearted teasing.

“He doesn’t listen to anyone’s prayers, why would he listen to yours?” Bálor’s voice rumbled in your ear, quickly making you turn around to face him at the foot of the bed.

“Do you think you’re that special, pet?”

Oh, he was mad.

At first, when you met him, Bálor called you “pet”, it was a deprecating term at the time, filled with disdain. But after a while, you became “little girl” when he was in a good mood, “my pet” when he was annoyed with you, and “pet” when he was mad at you.

“Are you God's precious little thing? That’s why you think He’ll hear you, huh?” When only silence answered him, Bálor growled loudly “Answer me!”

“No-“ Your voice was cut off by the sudden pressure of Finn’s hand amplified by Bálor’s strength around your neck.

“Good. Because HE won’t hear you! You belong to a demon and a human, the only god you should ever pray for is ME! I’m the only one who’ll hear you, and when you do pray, make sure to keep your eyes down on the earth where I am, because I’m not up in the sky, pet. Your help won’t come from up there, so stop searching in the clouds!” His hand abruptly left your neck, causing you to give two steps back due to the lack of force around your throat.

“Kneel”

Your brows furrowed at his statement, trying to understand the reason for that order.

“You were praying, weren’t you? Humans usually do that on their knees, no?! So go on, pet, kneel at your god’s feet and pray”.

“Bálor, please, let me-“

“I.said.kneel.and.pray”

Bálor pushed you down on the floor, making your knees hit the black hardwood floor with a thump. A small cry escaped your lips, your watery eyes looked up to stare at him, who had now taken full control of Finn’s body. His thick veins were black, red irises, canines sharp as razors, hair jet black, and nails tainted black at the edge.

You hoped to every sacred being that your next move wouldn’t anger him even more, but you remember when Finn once told you “Bálor is like an ice cube, cover him with some warmth and you’ll watch him melt”.

“Can I please touch you?” You asked with a meek voice, but he didn’t answer. You took this as a silent green light and pressed your palms against his torso.

“I didn’t mean to enrage you, my lord, I’m deeply sorry”. The correct word to use would be ‘upset’ instead of ‘enrage’, but Bálor didn’t deal with feelings and vulnerability well so you knew how to choose your words wisely by now.

“But trust me when I say that there was no ill intention on my part nor from Damian” You felt his abs harden at the mention of the name, the color of Bálor’s eyes began to dance like the most aggressive fire and your hands soon began to travel up and down his stomach, using touch to soothe his raw emotions.

“You’re the only one for me. You and Finn are the only men I’ll ever want, the only men I’ll ever need. I don’t want anyone else” Your hands began to travel down his abs, reaching his v-line that you traced with your nails. “Only you can satisfy me, only you can drive me insane with just a look”.

Your hands now stopped at his black jeans, one hand began massaging his crotch as the other caressed his lower belly - the most sensitive part of Bálor. “Only you can make me ache for you for days on end, only you know how to make me cum in mere seconds, only you can make me so hungry for your touch that I feel like I’m about to lose my mind if I don’t have you”.

“I don’t like when you respond to the flirtation of other men, pet”

“Damian flirts even with the walls, sir. He flirted with you, countless times” You tried to reason, feeling his cock begin to harden underneath the black jeans.

Bálor let out a small huff as you continued “Am I lying though? You know he did, with both you and Finn. And I always laughed at it because I knew there was no ill intention behind it. In the same way, there was none between him and me. You know that” You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on his clothed erection, “You’re the only one for me, my king”.

“On the bed” Bálor lowly hummed, cupping his hard cock with his palm.

You felt someone pushing you onto the bed from behind, panic covered your features until you saw who it was.

“You’re gonna join us?” Your soft smile pressed against the bare skin of his abs. His hands gathered your hair, softly pulling your head down to rest on the mattress.

His hand pulled the zipper of your jacket down, humming in approval at the sight of your bare breast.

“Came prepared I see” Finn grinned, head leaning down to close his warm mouth around your nipple.

“My good little pet” Bálor spoke from your right, the bed dipped as he knelt on the mattress. His hand pressed your cheeks together, causing your lips to open in a partial pout. “Let’s see how much you can handle it” He chuckled, grabbing you by the hair to quickly turn you around to lay on your stomach.

Your vision was blurred, your voice hoarse from so much screaming and cursing. Two became one, same body, same face, different details. One was sweet and sensual, the other was rough and raw. They were the perfect match, both drove you crazy in their way. The sun and the moon, night and day, dark and light, good and evil, residing within the same man, one born in hell, the other, heaven sent. Either way, you loved the duality, loved the experience, and most importantly, loved them.

“Shit, shit, shit” You whispered in a hurry as Bálor rapidly moved behind you, his cock slipped in and out with such ease that made you wonder how long you could take this.

In the meantime, Finn watched you, his hand lazily stroking his cock beside you in bed, admiring every little frown, every gasp, every moan, every plea. Your eyes instantly closed when Bálor hit your sweet spot, but they instantly reopened at the prickling feeling on your cheek.

“I didn’t say you could stop looking at him!” Bálor stated, landing another burning slap against your cheek, “Don’t you dare close those beautiful eyes, my pet”.

Finn smirked, leaning forward, placing his flattened tongue against the burning skin of your cheek. He gave a few kitten licks until the skin lost its vibrant reddish color, “You taste so good”, he licked again, only changing the route of his tongue.

Finn danced the tip of his tongue across your skin, traveling down your belly, stopping right above your mound. Bálor grinned at the sight, pulling your leg to rest on his shoulder.

“Oh my fucking god” You moaned loudly, feeling the tip of Finn’s tongue circling your clit as Bálor’s cock grew harder inside you. “I’m gonna die, I can’t take it”.

“Of course you can, love” Finn’s muffled voice echoed between your legs.

“Not only you can but you will, my precious pet” Bálor snarled in your ear “Because we won’t be done with you until the sun rises”.

[princessleechan]

"You're the man!" Chapter 44

Masterlist

⚽Chapter tags: MDNI, she’s the man au, revenge au???, cross dressing!reader, reader identifies anything but male, sports au, queer themes, university au, love-whatever the fuck kind of shape, debutante ball day!!!, w.c. 500+, short and sweet with a 18+ bonus scene to come <3

⚽Tag list: @90s-belladonna @the-boy-meets-evil @lirtha97 @hipsdofangirl @justineasian @kwanisms @multi-kpop-fanfics @pantumin @wooahaeproductions @mayashu @shuasdraftsalt @lone-lone-ranger @headlockimnida @horanghaezone @haolistic @porridgesblog @jeonjungkaka @luchiet @ujimatchaaa @skzdesi @cheoliehansolie @vlbii @myghobi @sisterofsomeone @joonsytip @gyublues @alltheshineofthestars-blog @randomworker @isabellah29 @savgogh @too-many-kpop-hubands @kamabokogonpachro @skittlez-area512 @seccdlurv @chisskaa @mochiteez @theyluvfrankocean @lllucere @thomawifey @middle-of-the-earth @okiedokrie-main @itsokaytobedumb00 @humankimbap @zezedoesshit @teenyfinds @jeonghansshitester @aaa-sia @heyitz00 @silvsie

Your eyes flutter at the sight of his presence, the heavy fabric of your dress crushed in your fist as you hold it barely above the grassy ground. You cautiously approach, lips parting in disbelief, wanting so badly for this to be real and not just a dream.

The closer your feet tread, the more tangible he becomes underneath the light of the moon, each step making his presence more vivid and causing your heart to swell until it feels like it might burst from your chest. You feel breathless, nervous, and happier than you’ve ever been.

“You came,” you manage to say through hushed sobs.

He closes the distance with a single step, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his linen dress pants. “I wanted to escort you myself. Before someone else did.”

A choked laugh escapes your lips, and this time, you run straight to him. His arms envelop you in a crushing embrace, his nose buried in your hair as he inhales the familiar scent of your perfume. One hand strokes your back while the other gently cradles the back of your head. You rapidly blink away the tears, forgeting about the makeup on your face, and squeezing him so tightly against you that there's no room left to breathe.

“Soonyoung,” you whisper, your voice trembling with relief. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

When you walk on stage, it feels as if you're walking on air. The spotlight bathes you in a warm, golden glow, and the crowd erupts into a thunderous cheer at your appearance. The deeper voices blend into a powerful roar, their excitement palpable as you take careful, deliberate steps forward. The grand ballroom is adorned with elegant decorations, and chandeliers casting a sparkling light across the sea of faces turned toward you.

Soonyoung, impeccably dressed in his tailored suit, firmly grasps your hand, his touch both steady and reassuring. His grip is an anchor amidst the overwhelming attention. As he guides you across the stage, he turns his head to flash you a soft, encouraging smile. The warmth in his eyes and the sincerity of his expression make your heart flutter, grounding you in this surreal moment.

The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wooden floor is drowned out by the applause and cheers. The air is filled with the faint scent of roses and perfume, mingling the food cooked fresh from the chef’s kitchen. You can feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you, but with Soonyoung by your side, you feel nothing but confidence.

Your eyes would flicker over to the sea of onlookers, catching familiar faces of your mother, brother, and your teammates from university, and the boys you’ve tricked in the several months impersonating Yeonam–particularly Mingyu, who congratulating clicks his bubbly drink in your direction–all with a jovial expression on their faces. 

The lights, the noise, the sheer energy of the audience—all of it soon fades into the background looking back at the man on your arm. The man you came to cherish. In this perfect moment, with Soonyoung walking you across the stage, you know you couldn’t picture a more wonderful scene.

[messrsrarchives]

How are you so open to so many different ships but draw the line at dramione 😭 (no hate! Genuinely curious as both a drarry and Dramione shipper 🫶)

i can't even,,, i wish i could explain in my usual yappy way i dislike dramione but i can't. i,,, there's no words to describe how thick and well-drawn this line is i just HATE it so much. (prefacing here ofc that idc what people like or dislike none of this is real)

and i mean !! the creativity and commitment? impeccable. yk i really respect people who take the time to craft a character's personality to fit the dynamic! there's a lot of creativity that goes into erasing hermione entirely and forming her into an oc that wou- see i can't be yappy i am now entering aggressive territory

but essentially! enemies to lovers is a trope i won't read and yessss drarry is typically classified as that by most people but there's a big difference between drarry's rivalry and the way that's put forth in canon (blew my mind that harry was straight the first time i read the books) and literal oppression, harrassment and bullying and that's just,,, not a dynamic i like to read. or a situation i can see draco and/or hermione willingly being in without stripping away core parts of their character. we all know that hermione is used in a very self-inserty way (which also,,, yk go ahead! none of this is real i hope people are having fun with that) but it 😭😭 YK WHAT ENERGY IT GIVES ME? 😭😭 yk that one emma watson interview where she's like "he was a bit older, he had a skateboard, he was a bit of a bad boy" about tom felton? that's the energy it gives me of like "*debby ryan smile* i like them baddd"

and from what i have seen and engaged in, i don't fw the dark "romance" genre either. not a big fan of that. actually an avid hater of dark "romance".

and like it's fanfiction !!! i'm sure there's great ones out there, i'm sure people are able to write around the fact he literally says he wants her dead multiple times, watches her get tortured, mocks her appearance, bullies her, calls her a slur (am i forgetting anything?) and shape it into something else but i *personallyyyy* cannot. it gives when your parents told you little boys on the playground bullied you because they liked you and it's like,,, okay well i hate myself right now ! i guess this is what love feels like ! but also i see the appeallllll of like,,, a love that's pure enough and strong enough to defeat "evil" but omg.

okay. i'm done. ESSENTIALLY 😁☝🏻 i see the appeal vaguely but i, much like hermione, would have to be crafted into a completely different person to enjoy it because it's filled with everything i hate. (again, generalising. i'm sure there's decent ones out there but i do not care LOL)

romione? impeccable. i'm trying to think who else i've read hermione with? OH fred!? impeccable. really big into the idea of hermione and percy at the moment ! i've read pansmione and kinda fwed that but it's not my go to. romione is my forever and always

IDK MAN. my image of hermione would never. whereas drarry isn't the same dynamic, they were written with (albeit unintentional) subtext and harry wasn't a hatstall as such but the hat debateddd slytherin yk? and also,,, draco doesn't call him a slur for years YKKKKK

anyway ahem. live laugh love. stopping now before i rant and go too far but if i were to engage in anti culture? it would be anti-dramione. which i don't because i simply block the dramione tags everywhere and move on with my day but yk. enrages me actually. i can't do it.

[jus-a-lil-mouse]

BITE

(including this fantastic art from @this-is-z-art-blog )

Danny decided very quickly that he really, really did not like the new kid.

Kade Johnson (“That’s such a white boy name,” Tucker had said, eyes rolling) had started in the middle of November. A senior with blonde hair and blue eyes that rivaled Dash’s good looks. Smart and athletic. A model student. Charismatic. Friendly. Off.

“He’s just sort of… weird,” Danny had told Sam over lunch.

She had glanced at the senior in question, varsity jacket slung over his shoulder, laughing with the rest of the basketball team. “Yeah, Danny. He’s a popular kid who’s going to peak in high school.”

Danny shook his head. “It’s more than that.”

“Danny, I promise it’s not,” Sam replied. “Unless he’s, y’know…” she wiggled her fingers at him, flinging a bit of pizza sauce his way, “ghostly?”

“No. He’s normal,” Danny sighed. Sam raised an eyebrow at him. Danny rolled his eyes. “He’s human, I mean.”

Tucker dumped an armful of vending machine snacks on their lunch table, settling in next to Danny. “He’s telling you about his conspiracies too?”

“They’re not-“

“Yeah, new kid’s evil and out to get us,” Sam replied.

Danny grabbed the Ruffles and ate them as petulantly as he could, glaring at his two dearest friends in the world. “He’s weird,” Danny insisted weakly, glancing over at the senior again.

Clear blue eyes stared back at him, alive and bright. Unsettling. Kade grinned at him, showing off too-white teeth. Danny thought he might puke.

Behavior

It had been nearly three weeks since Danny was able to sit at his seat. He didn’t even realize it was his seat until fucking Kade was there with impeccably clear skin and the vague hint of cologne hanging around him. Khakis (who wore nice pants to high school?) and a polo and his Varsity letter jacket. And Danny knew why he, a freshman, was in the Junior-level physics class - because he was fucking smart - but that didn’t explain why Kade, a senior, was in the Junior-level physics class - because Danny knew that Kade was also fucking smart. It was the only thing Jazz could talk about anymore.

And Danny was stuck staring at the back of Kade’s stupid head. Because Star had just given Danny’s seat away. Like “Lab Partners for Life” meant nothing to her. Every day Kade came in and sat down next to her and gave her a big grin. And Star gazed up at him adoringly and said “What do you think of my outfit today, Kade?” And Kade said “You look great, why don’t you sit next to me at lunch today?” Or “I don’t think that style suits you very well, sorry Star.” Or something equally weird and unrelated to physics. And Danny couldn’t see the whiteboard.

Danny had tried telling Tucker that Kade was weird. Tucker had put Danny’s cheeks between his hands and said “Hey, man. You can tell me if you’re gay. It’s okay.” And Danny said “You’re an ass, Tuck,” because Danny had already come out to him three years ago.

Danny had tried telling Sam. She’d said, “At least he’s gotten Dash to stop wearing those stupid ripped jeans. The khakis and polos are an improvement.” Which was true - all the A-listers wore exactly what Kade wanted them to. They probably shopped together.

At lunch Kade sat with the A-Listers of every grade. They all ate what he ate and sat where he asked them to. They all wore stupid matching friendship bracelets that were too bright. The charms hurt Danny’s eyes whenever they caught the light right, and they caught the light right all the time.

Danny hated that guy.

Information

Danny was always a little bit prepared for an attack during school. After it had happened so many times already, it would be foolish not to keep a Thermos in his bag and be on edge all of the damn time. But it had been less frequent lately. All the ghosts seemed to be quieting down. It was suspicious, but Danny had been trying to take advantage of the sleep while he could. Growing boy and all that. Unfortunately, dull headaches throbbed in his head and his nights were frustratingly sleepless.

So it follows naturally that Skulker shows up while Danny is nearly asleep in English. He isn’t even fully awake when he transforms in the bathroom, Thermos in hand and backpack discarded in the corner.

He manages to be wide awake when he makes it onto the football field and finds Skulker staring down Kwan, who - to his credit - is staring right back. Danny’s able to get a good shot in while Skulker is distracted, and the following fight is short and sweet and incredibly routine. Danny touches down next to Kwan once it’s over. “Hey, man. You’re supposed to run away from ghosts.”

Kwan grins at him, bright and full of teeth. “It’s fine, Phantom! See, I’ve got this!” He held up his wrist and Danny winced as the sun caught the charm just right and blinded him. Kwan sheepishly put his arm back down. “Sorry. It’s an anti-ghost charm.”

“It’s a what,” Danny said flatly, reaching for Kwan’s wrist again. He braced himself for the brightness, and squinted to examine the bracelet.

“An anti-ghost charm!” Kwan repeated. “See, there’s a new student - his name is Kade - and he’s a genius. He knows all about ghosts. The charm is a little locket, see, and inside is special ingredients.”

“What ingredients?” Danny asked, trying to open the container.

Kwan kicked at the dirt. “Well, I’m not really supposed to ask… I don’t know,” he admitted. “But Kade says if I keep doing well, I can learn one day! Kade’s great.”

Danny grunted, finally wiggling the locket open. “Is that hair?” he asked, pulling a little knot of it out. It looked just like the clumps of Jazz’s hair that he found on his laundry - definitely human hair. And a small pin, and a little thorn that pricked Danny’s finger. “What the fuck,” Danny breathed, shaking his hand out. He glanced up at Kwan, who looked devastated that Danny had opened the locket.

“Kade will be upset that I opened it,” Kwan said quietly, as though confiding a great secret. “I might not get to sit at the table during lunch.” Danny did his best not to roll his eyes. “He says they lose their magic when you open them.”

“Why?” Danny asked, shoving the items back into the container and shutting the clasp. “It’s just some garbage - it doesn’t even do anything.”

“Yes it does,” Kwan insisted, suddenly loud again. Danny dropped his hand. “Kade says so. He knows all about ghosts.”

“I am a ghost,” Danny reminded him.

“Ghosts are liars. Kade says a ghost will tell you anything you want to hear to get what they want.” He took a step back. “You could be lying right now. Maybe you aren’t even saving us from the ghosts, like Kade says. I shouldn’t even be talking to you. What if someone sees?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Kade can save you next time Skulker comes around if he’s so great.” He left before he could hear Kwan’s response.

Thought

Danny is only a little pleased to be paired with Paulina for English today. Sure, she’s a bit unbearable to be around, but she’s pretty, so it evens out. The sickly sweet smell of her perfume worsens his headache, but at least she isn’t wearing one of those damn charms.

She gives him a disinterested glance as he sits next to her, worksheet in hand. He tries not to be that offended. And then he is offended, he decides, because she’s got a picture of Kade sticking out of her notebook.

“Did you do yesterday’s reading?” Danny asked. He knew the answer.

“No, I was busy at Kade’s house,” Paulina replied, looking at him as though he was stupid for thinking she’d do her homework. “I’m in the inner circle.”

“So… the worksheet?” Danny said, hoping to redirect the conversation. “Lancer’s usually willing to fail us for not finishing before ghosts attack.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe. Kade knows how to keep ghosts away. He knows everything. He’s protected the school so well!”

“I thought Phantom was protecting the school,” Danny said through gritted teeth.

Paulina tut-tutted at him. “No. Phantom is a ghost. Ghosts are evil,” she says, as though he is a child. “Kade tells us how to protect ourselves from ghosts. My perfume is ghost-repellant. And I do all of my meditations so that they can’t take over my mind. If you asked, Kade could help you too,” she added sweetly. “Your parents clearly don’t know anything about ghosts. Not like Kade.”

Danny recognized the insult for what it was, but Paulina also sounded genuine. She believed this nonsense. “Paulina, none of that works.” The perfume smelled bad, but it wasn’t repelling him. “How has he proven any of that works?”

“Um, it obviously works,” she replied. “Ghosts haven’t attacked the school in weeks, and even the attacks in town are stopping. That’s because of us. Kade is showing us how to protect the town, and soon… well, we won’t need Phantom ever again.”

She had a point. Ghost attacks were way down. Danny still felt like shit all the time, but at least he hadn’t needed to be doing vigilante business as well - he just thought he was finally winning. That after enough fights they’d stopped coming back. It made more sense than Paulina stopping the attacks, at least. “Paulina, Kade doesn’t have that kind of power. He’s just a guy.”

Paulina’s hand shot in the air. “Mr. Lancer, can I work by myself?” Lancer didn’t even look up from his monitor, just sighed and waved his hand in a ‘ do whatever’ motion. She turned back to him, angrier than Danny had ever seen her. “I don’t listen to unbelievers like you. I’m part of the inner circle.”

And then she was up and gone, seat vacated. Danny let his head thud onto the table. He also hadn’t done the reading. This worksheet was going to take him forever.

Emotion

It’s mid-March when Danny finally realizes that something is wrong with Dash. Early March is when Dash’s ‘spring cleaning’ starts, and everyone who looks at him wrong gets shoved in a locker (at best) or a toilet (at worst). But Danny - despite being sleep-deprived, achey, and nauseous - has been snarking at him constantly for weeks, and hasn’t been shoved anywhere. His hair is blessedly free of toilet water. And Dash is wearing khakis and polos and he wears that stupid bracelet.

“I thought you’d be glad he stopped his brutishness,” Sam said when he brought it up. “I really think you need to see a doctor, Danny.”

Tucker hadn’t even tried listening to him. “You haven’t slept well in months, man. Of course you’re paranoid.” The kindness in his eyes made Danny want to hurl. Danny was the protector, not the protected.

He was on his own.

Which is why he nearly let out a breath of relief when Dash cornered him in the near-empty locker room after gym. The remaining boys cleared out quickly, leaving Danny and Dash alone. Finally, a fight. Ghosts hadn’t been seen in weeks. Danny felt more deathly than ever.

“Hey, uh, Fenton,” Dash started, and Danny froze. Was this not a fight?

“Baxter,” Danny replied coolly. “Come for spring cleaning?”

Dash looked scared, and Danny didn’t understand anything that was happening. “No. I wanted to apologize for my past behavior. It was juvenile, and will not be repeated.”

“Those are some pretty big words,” Danny says, and he can see the conflict in Dash’s eyes: to punch or not to punch? That is the question.

Dash takes a deep breath and sticks his hand out between them. “I apologize for my past behavior,” he repeats. Danny lets this hang between them, too.

“No,” Danny says. “Dude, what? Glad you cleared your conscience, but I’m not going to shake your hand and say we’re fine.”

“You have to,” Dash pleaded. “Everyone else did.”

“Yeah, man! Of course they did! You beat the shit out of us all the time!”

“I used to beat the shit of you all the time.”

“Dash, what is going on?” Danny asks, dropping his volume down.

Dash shifts uncomfortably. He mumbles something into the air dividing them, but Danny can’t quite catch it. He stays silent, waiting for Dash to break first. It only takes a moment. “Kade is going to save some of us. I’m supposed to be free of grudges or the negative emotions will cause the process to go wrong. I’ve been having extra one-on-one sessions,” Dash explains. “Kade says if I’m forgiven it’ll go well. Then we’ll all be okay. So you have to forgive me.”

“Dash, none of that makes any sense.”

“Well it’s not my fault you’re not in the inner circle. Maybe if you weren’t such a loser you’d be able to be saved too.”

“You’re so good at not continuing your past behavior,” Danny replies, and is almost glad for the cold bite of the locker on his back when Dash slams him into it.

“I am going to go to Kade’s. He is going to make it so I can’t die, and then we will make it so the whole town is safe and the ghosts won’t be able to touch us. Kade can cut us off from death! He’s done it before! So you’re going to forgive me and I’m gonna be a hero.” Dash’s eyes were bright and alive and sickening to look into.

Danny didn’t know what to say to that. So he didn’t say anything, and got shoved in a locker.

Control

“I hate being right all the time,” Danny mutters to himself. He shuffles through a couple more papers on Kade’s desk, and then phases through the ceiling. The easiest realization was ‘Kade is leading a cult’. Next step was to visit Kade’s house by following him home from school. Thankfully, Kade was the kind of evil genius who left his plans out on his desk.

Gather recruits. Help guide them towards salvation. Cut off the town from the Ghost Zone. Be hailed as a savior.

The problem was this: Danny knew intimately that life and death were in balance. You couldn’t have one without the other. Kade had been leaching energy off of his fellow students to begin the process. Danny was being slowly cut off from death (explaining the headaches and the nausea and the bone-deep exhaustion). The whole town was. Of course there’d been less ghost attacks. Danny had been right to be suspicious. Amity Park’s veil was razor-thin, and this separation would probably cause it to implode spectacularly.

“I was so hoping you’d be here.”

Danny turns and sees Kade, eyes bright and alive and smile full of too-white teeth. “Here I am,” Danny says, spreading his arms open dramatically.

“Here you are!” Kade says. “The ghost boy himself! Are you here to foil my plans?” He asks it as though it is an inside joke, as though they are old friends. “Shall I give you my monologue?”

Danny settles. Gives the illusion of complacency. Shrugs. “Yeah, if that’s what you want to do with your day.”

“I am always searching for souls seeking redemption,” Kade replies, spreading his arms wide. “Daniel, I am a visionary. I am alive. I have removed all traces of death from myself. It cannot touch me.”

That last bit may have been true; being in the room with him was dizzying. Agitating. Looking at his face felt sickening.

“I could tell you all the details, but here are the highlights. I have saved my soul, made myself more alive than anyone has ever been. It was simple and bloody, but now I know how to save everyone.”

“If you upset the balance, everything will collapse in on itself. By separating them you’ll bring them closer together. Like a rubber band, y’know?”

Kade tuts at him. “What will you do, ghost? Stop me?”

“It’s what I do,” Danny shrugs, and prepares for a fight.

The fight doesn’t come; it never even starts. Kade is untouchable; the ectoblasts and wails just wash over him like a wave breaking on stone. Kade is grinning. His teeth are too white and his eyes are bright and Danny is tired.

“I told you, I cannot be touched by death,” Kade reminds him.

Danny is the world; he is balanced. He returns to life and lands a well-placed sucker punch. Kade hadn’t been expecting that, and soon enough they were tumbling on the ground. It’s been a while since Danny was in a fight, but it returns to him easily. His knuckles are bleeding. He is winning. “What are you?” Danny asks through bloody teeth. “You aren’t a ghost.”

“I am to life what a ghost is to death,” Kade hisses from the floor. “And you are an abomination.”

“Dude. That’s rude,” Danny replies.

Danny has spent years avoiding Dash Baxter, so when he hears those familiar footfalls in the hallway, he transforms. He lets Kade push him away. He makes sure Dash and Paulina have a good view of Kade, beaten and bloody, and Phantom looming over him. Kade pushes himself up off the floor, his “anti-ghost” charm swinging wildly off his bracelet as he attempts to steady himself.

He uses his best Superhero voice. “This evil-doer was attempting to upset the balance of forces sustaining the world. He intended to cause the apocalypse.” The apocalypse bit was a lie, but they wouldn’t know that. Danny gave them a thumbs up. He disappeared.

Sam and Tucker weren’t that impressed when he told them about it.

“Cults are small potatoes,” Sam says wisely.

“It wasn’t even a real cult, it was a high schooler with an entourage,” Tucker adds.

“He was a supernatural entity that wanted to destroy the world,” Danny argues.

Sam nods. “Yeah. Small potatoes.”

“I’m just glad you finally got some sleep, buddy,” Tucker says, swinging an arm around Danny’s shoulders.

[toyintrance]

thinking about my old mad scientist/genetic engineer oc I never did anything with bc I didn't have a setting to put them in. and realizing they're like Perfectly suited for tf kink shenanigans tbh. Back alley doctor who for the right price will do unspeakable things to your body and leave you irrevocably changed. You're welcome!

Their bedside manner is impeccable except for the occasional evil laugh but as it turns out a lot of their patients are into that too, so it's a win/win.

[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART

A Ghost Of A Man (PART FOUR)

Summary: With the folder she found at the antique fair, the reader goes to see Tommy once again. Will he open up about what happened the night he died?

Warnings: Language, supernatural themes

It had been a few hours since you arrived back home. Sitting on the sofa daydreaming, the TV on in the background you had the folder you found a few days ago on your lap, when all of a sudden the front door swung open.

" Fuck! Louise you scared me" you said as the folder fell to the ground.

" Hello to you too, you didn't text me by the way"

"I'm sorry, shit I've been such a crappy friend these past few days" you apologised as you started picking up the folder and it's contents, balancing your other hand in the air.

"What the hell is that?" she said as she noticed a tea bag resting precariously on your hand.

"Oh, it's just this chamomile thing for the pain" you said, oblivious to how ridiculous you looked.

"A chamomile tea bag" she laughed raising her hands in the air then dramatically slapping both her thighs with them " You know what? I'm not even gonna ask where you got this idea from" she said uncontrollably laughing.

" Alright, alright.." you replied not being able to hold back a laugh. " I was told it was good for injuries" you added as you adjusted the tea bags position.

Still laughing she sat down beside you " How is it anyway?" She asked as she nodded towards your hand.

" It's fine just need to rest it"

" Didn't go get it checked out did you?" She said with a huff. "Thought you said you were no longer using them" she added pointing to the folder in your hand.

" I'm not, just thought I'd read through it all again"

" So... what is it about this Tommy Shelby that has got my friend so captivated?" She asked moving closer to you to look at the folder.

" I'm not captivated" you said rolling your eyes fidgeting slightly. " I don't know... I just think there's more to him. Yes he was dangerous and menacing, but there's something else...I don't think he was solely a bad man".

" Not many people a purely evil, I'm sure there was good in him too" she said with a small smile, seeing that you was quite taken by this mysterious man. " Do you have a picture of him?

" Erh yeh, I do actually" you answered looking through the papers as you pulled out the picture the old lady gave you.

" Which one's Thomas Shelby?"

" That's him" you replied as you pointed to him on the old black and white picture.

" Ahh so that's why you're so captivated" She giggled nudging your arm with hers. " He may have been a dangerous man, but my god...was he hot" she said as she took the picture from you. "Mr moustache is pretty fine too" she giggled again.

Laughing you looked at the picture with her. He was good-looking, no one could deny that. He looked the same as he did in the picture, piercing eyes, sharp jaw, muscular build, impeccable sense of style. Only his complexion was different, a stark reminder of what he was now. Was he still the same man as the one in the picture you wondered, or had the years made him too bitter and angry. What if you could help him, help him change his fate, give him a second chance. Would you do that for a man as dangerous as Tommy Shelby?

The next day you decided to ditch going to Uni altogether. You planned to go back to the building back to Tommy once again. Standing In front of the mirror you pulled on your long black coat, you had actually made an effort today. Now free of its bandages and feeling far less sore, your hand seemed to be healing quickly. With the folder on Thomas and the Peaky Blinders under your arm you walked out the front door and headed for the bus stop.

Walking up the old wooden stairs for the third time, you noticed Tommy sitting on one of the secretary desks facing the large window that looked out onto the street below.

"Back so soon?" He said turning to face you.

Feeling slightly embarrassed that you had returned so quickly, you stayed near the staircase closing your open coat around you.

" I can leave if you want?" You said in quiet voice as you started to feel self-conscious at your choice of clothing, his evident glare looking at you from head to toe.

" What's that ?" He said pointing to the folder under your arm ignoring your question, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched your restlessness.

" Oh, yes, It's Mr Campbell's folder" you replied slowly making your way closer to him

" Hmm" he nodded as you was now right beside him.

" Thought you would like to see it" you said as you placed it on the table beside him.

Tommy reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a cigarette from a silver case, placing it between his lips then lighting it, all the time not losing eye contact with you once. Why did he stare so much you wondered as you tried to avoid his challenging glare, was he trying to scare you off again? Still sitting on the edge of the desk now with the lit cigarette loosely resting between his lips he turned to look at the folder beside him, opening it his fingers traced over the various documents. A little overly enthusiastically you pulled out the photo of him and his family from within the folder, moving his hand out the way. His cold fingers felt polar opposite to your warm hands and with that Tommy pulled his hand away from yours swallowing harshly as he stretched out his fingers from your touch. It had been so long since he had felt the now unfamiliar warm heat of a woman, the softness of the skin, like silk under his fingers. Watching his reaction you stepped back, uncertainty in your eyes. But then Tommy picked up the picture of his family, glancing up at you he gave you a faint smile.

" I remember having this picture taken" he said reminiscing. " Took four goes until everyone stopped fucking arguing" he slightly chuckled as he watched you smile at his memory.

" Who was Mr Campbell?" You asked looking up at him from the picture.

" Chief Inspector Chester Campbell" he replied correcting you as he walked away from the desk taking a drag of his cigarette. "He was hired by Winston Churchill to recover a missing consignment of guns from the BSA factory" he added clearing his throat.

"Missing?" You said with a small smile. "Why did he have a folder on you and your family?"

" I think you know why miss Y/L/N" he replied as he cocked an eyebrow.

" What really happened that night you died" you asked overly confident.

Huffing Tommy strided over to you " You ask a lot of question you know that? And I rarely answer questions. You know everything about me and yet I know so little about you"

" Do you want to know about me?" You asked slightly embarrassed by your bombardment of questions.

Taking a drag of his cigarette leaning against the wall he gestured with his hand for you to talk. He did want to know more about you. Who was this young girl that had suddenly entered his world like a freight train coming at full speed, he was more than intrigued by you.

" Well... You already know my name". You said standing up from sitting on the edge of the desk. " I'm in my mid 20s, i'm a student at the University of Birmingham studying history. I live in Sparkhill with my roommate in this old converted attic. My family are from the area. I moved to the city a year ago, I work at the Sparkhill library. I like the history of this city...i erh I like to collect antiques" you said like you was reciting a checklist.

Tommy watched on with amusement as you paced arms folded with a flustered face back and forth in front of him, trying to think of something even a little more interesting to say.

"That's it" you said coming to a stop In front of him, your eyes avoiding his out of embarrassment.

" It's that why you like busying yourself in other people's history, because your life is so mundane" He said with a cocky smirk.

" Fuck" you sighed quietly turning your face away from him, your eyes welling up as you shook your head in disbelief at his brutal remark and the realisation that it was true. You had always thrown yourself into the history of other people's lives, so much so that you had forgotten to live your own life and make your own history, the realisation was uncomfortable.

Not intending you to take it that way, Tommy walked over to you turning your chin with his thumb to face him, you flinched at his coldness but he kept his thumb in place.

" I was only teasing" he said lowering his head trying to get you to look at him " Maybe you just need a bit of excitement, eh?" He said as he brushed a lone tear away with his thumb.

" Maybe" you sniffled as you gazed into his eyes. They were the bluest eyes you had ever seen and you found yourself getting lost in them, pulling yourself away from your daydreaming you looked down at the floor.

" I was heading to my car" he said letting go of your chin. " Sabini and his men jumped me, beat me within an inch of my life" he added as his eyes glazed over, no emotion omitting from his body. Had he become so accustomed to that life you wondered as you watched him talk like he had recounted this story a thousand times.

" How did you get back to your office?"

" I barely did" he said as he turned his head and looked at you. "I was trying to get back to phone my brother...i think you know the rest" he added as he took a long drag of his cigarette, straightening his posture out.

You remembered the article and the old ladies words. Tommy was found dead slouched in his office chair, he was too weak, barely alive. He never made that call in time.

" You get to go back, each year...to try and change the outcome though? You asked him, a hint of hope in your eyes for him.

"Now how do you know that?" He said as he tilted his head narrowing his eyes at you.

" The old lady on Watery Lane" you replied apprehensively, like you was not supposed to be entrusted with this knowledge.

He scoffed shaking his head in disbelief as he made his way back over to sit on the old secretary desk.

" She talks too much that one" he said as he went to light another cigarette. You watched him as he lit the match once again, the small glow of the flame warming his face for a brief moment. You found yourself unknowingly staring at him once again. Shit, was your friend right? Were you captivated by him.

Tommy however noticed your staring, a cocky smile formed on his mouth as his lit cigarette burned between his lips.

"Y/L/N" he said aloud pulling you from whatever daydream you had entered this time.

"What?" You answered flustered, cheeks now an embarrassing shade of red.

"Y/L/N" he replied once more. " You wouldn't happen to be related to the Y/L/N's that live just outside of north Birmingham, would you?"

" There's lots of Y/L/N that live around Birmingham" You said looking at him as his eyes sparked with mischievousness.

"I know everyone in and outside of the city love, and your last name I have only heard a few times" He said shaking his finger at you. " Mill Street, no?"

Oh fuck, it had never occurred to you that he might have known your ancestors. What was he going to do, go back and have them offed for their great granddaughters incessant nosiness into the life of Birmingham's most dangerous Gangster.

" It must be another Y/L/N family, mine only moved to Birmingham recently" you lied through your teeth.

Getting up from the desk his hands in his pockets, he walked over to the other side of the room all the time watching you with a smirk on his face. He knew you was lying. You wasn't exactly very good at it, fidgeting hands, eyes down to the floor cheeks crimson red. He found it almost endearing, watching you stumble out a lie to protect your family. From what he remembered your family were good people, your great grandfather a respected man and a force to be reckoned with, not that different from himself, but nonetheless hardworking and honest.

"Don't worry love, I'm not going to go back and have them killed" he said like he was reading your mind.

" I wasn't thinking that" you replied as confidently as you could only to be betrayed by your restless hands once more. "...I need to get going" you added looking at him as he nodded to you.

Walking over to the desk you started putting all the various newspaper clippings, documents and papers back in the folder.

"Leave the photo" he said as he watched you.

Nodding, you started heading for the stairs until Tommy's hand caught you by your hip.

"Will you come back?" He asked turning his head to face you as he looked down into your eyes, his hand still on your waist.

"Yes" you nodded smiling to him as he smiled back. Now at the top of the stairs you turned around to face him.

"Bye Tommy"

"Goodbye Y/N"

NEXT PART

Tag list: @theshelbyclan

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 35: Monster

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Leo readies his twin katanas. Raph raises his sai. Donatello points the end of his bō staff in Chaplin's direction.

"You," Donnie growls. "What. Have you done. With our brother."

Chaplin smiles.

"What haven't I done is a better question," he jokes. "I've improved him. Though, let's be honest... with your kind, improvement isn't enough."

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?!" Leo spits at him.

"It means that the Yokai and the mutants are... how shall I put this..."

"What, a disease? A cancer? A deformity? I've seen the movies with the evil villains who want to eradicate a species, I know this bullcrap speech!" Leo snarks at him.

"No no, you misunderstand. Your people are quite talented and impressive!" Chaplin says with a grin. "I've studied your cultures, your biology, your abilities. I've travelled the world and seen many Yokai cities. But you are a threat. And I won't allow any threats to humanity. Alien or otherwise."

"So, then why the mutations?" Raph asks. "Why do so many cruel experiments?? If you hate mutants so much, why make more?"

"Quite simple, really," Chaplin explains, lifting his legs and recrossing them the other way around. "We've been trying to fight fire with fire. To destroy the mutants and the Yokai, we had to make some of our own. Though, our experiments continuously failed us. We were missing some crucial element, the secret ingredient that allows you to function and survive and have incredible supernatural abilities -- until we found your Mikey."

Leo hears Raph growl from behind him.

"He is quite resilient, your brother. So much stronger than we expected! And that was even before we mutated him! His potential is practically unlimited."

"Why would you subject him to this?!" Donnie hisses. "What was the purpose of this room?! Why make him fight?!"

"Three reasons," Chaplin explains calmly. "One: we needed to see his abilities in action, and the extent of those abilities. Two: it was a way to train his problem-solving skills. We knew he was strong and powerful, but we also needed to confirm he had intelligence. None of our other experiments were advanced in the mind. Far from it, they seemed to deteriorate rapidly."

"...What was the third reason?" Donnie asks with hesitance.

"Oh, yes. Waste management."

Leo glares at the scientist.

"What."

"Well, we'd been doing quite a number of experiments, and they were piling up. We were running out of space, supplies, food, etc. And they were all disappointments. True, they had interesting new abilities and enhanced strength, but they were disgusting failures in the end, and we had to free up some space to try again with new vermin. So we had to eradicate the excess mutants, and Mikey was a big help with that."

Raph stomps forward.

"You're... you're a sick, twisted, sadistic MONSTER!"

"I'm a man who is working towards a goal," Dr. Chaplin corrects.

"What does Mikey have to do with it? How does he accomplish your goal?!" Leo shouts. "How does kidnapping my baby brother help you?!"

"Mikey is a weapon," he explains, leaning back nonchalantly. "MY weapon. He is indestructible, powerful, his instincts are impeccable, and he can take orders. He's the perfect living weapon, and he will help me eradicate every threat to humanity."

"You can't turn our brother into a weapon!" Leo shouts.

"Yeah, that was my idea!" Donnie chimes in, though Raph smacks him upside the head in frustration. "Ow! Right, right, not the time..."

Leo saunters up to the mad scientist and presses a katana against his neck.

"Now. WHERE. IS. MIKEY?! What have you done with him?!"

"Oh, of course!" Dr. Chaplin laughs. "Don't worry, he's right here..."

Dr. Chaplin taps a button on the side of the chair, and a panel in the wall opens.

From the darkness, two glowing yellow and red eyes can be seen peering at them. Slowly, Mikey steps out, staring blankly at his brothers.

"Mikey!" Leo gasps, releasing Dr. Chaplin and rushing over to his baby brother. "You're okay! Come on, we're getting out of here and--"

Leo takes Mikey's hand and pulls, but Mikey refuses to move.

".......Mikey...?"

"I'm afraid he can't hear you," Chaplin huffs.

Leo turns to glare at Dr. Chaplin. He suddenly notices the headband crowning him, the bright pink lights that adorn the sides. How had he not seen it before?!

Leo steps away from Mikey, staring in fear as he realizes what's about to happen.

"Mikey... no..."

"Wonderful little gadget, this!" Dr. Chaplin brags. "Can work up to a three mile radius in all directions. It's based on Krang technologies and biologies."

"B-biology...?" Raph whimpers, hand going to his eye once again.

"Oh yes. We learned a lot from the infected zombies. This machine combines a severed part of the brain from that one alien we captured. I'm assuming I have you four to thank for that..."

"Her... brain?" Leo gawks. "You took her brain?"

"Oh, don't act like that is some terrible and horrific thing after all they tried to do!" Dr. Chaplin groans. "You honestly can't say that you're not relieved that 'she' is dead now. And besides, the real person you have to thank for this machine is actually your own brother!"

Leo, Donnie, and Raph simultaneously turn to look at Mikey.

"You see, he showed us something we never expected -- Mikey could control the zombies. That was when we realized, there was a hierarchy to the Krang -- the zombies were the omegas, and Mikey was the beta, hence why they followed his commands. The Krang were the alphas, and as such could control all of them easily. That was what we needed with Mikey. During of our evaluations, some of our staff psychiatrists discovered that Mikey had an alternate persona that activated during moments of intense emotion or physical distress. It was strong, forceful, and wasn't afraid to go for the kill. But he was also stubborn and dangerous, and refused to comply willingly. We needed a way to have Mikey be the monster while also listening to instructions. And so I created a way to mimic the Krang brain waves so as to control him."

"You... you beat him," Donnie heaves. "I saw the video, you tortured him..."

"That was for a reason," Dr. Chaplin insists. "I needed to see if he would follow orders to a tee, even if it meant physical harm."

Donnie heaves again.

"And he did superbly; his compliance was wonderful. A perfect living weapon that will follow orders unto death! Speaking of which --"

"D-don't do it, don't listen to him --" Leo tries, reaching for his baby brother.

"Mikey," Dr. Chaplin orders, "If you would be so kind as to dispatch these intruders for me."

Mikey glares at his brothers. His mouth curls into a snarl, his irises slit into thin lines. He places himself in a ready stance, claws elongated and ready to fight. His tail whips around him, the tip spiking like a mace.

"Mikey, please, I-I don't wanna fight you!" Leo begs. He doesn't want to go through this again... not again...

Mikey rushes forwards.

Raph pulls Leo away and shields him, holding his arms up and activating his ninpo. Large holographic arms cover over him, protecting him from Mikey's onslaught. Mikey lunges and starts biting the hologram, tearing it apart piece by piece with his sharp claws and talons. He sinks his fangs into them; they go so deep they nearly puncture Raph's actual arm.

Donnie's robot arms protrude from his battle-shell, grab Mikey from behind, and yank him off of Raph. Mikey shrieks angrily and turns back to attack Donnie.

"Mikey, snap out of it!" Donnie yells.

Mikey screeches and slashes his claws at him. Donnie reels back, dropping his brother as he guards himself. Mikey slashes his tail and several projectile spines fly at him. Donnie twirls his staff and hastily creates a shield, deflecting them at the last second. Raph wraps his ninpo arms around Mikey, who struggles against him. He howls and yowls. The cries sound desperate, scared --

"M-Mikey?" Raph gasps. "Wait, did I hurt you--"

"Raph, no, don't--!"

Raphael drops Mikey, afraid that he may have held him too tight. Mikey instantly turns on him and attacks, his tail slashing at the ankles and knocking him down. Raph yells in pain as he falls, clutching the wound and trying to stop the bleeding.

"Mikey!" Leo scolds. "Snap out of it!!"

The double-mutant turns and glares at Leo. He's next.

"Dee, keep him distracted, I'm going to take out the controller!" Leo hisses.

Donnie nods, and creates a series of mini missiles to fire at (and purposefully miss) Mikey, as Leo creates a portal and slips through.

The portal reopens and appears right behind Dr. Chaplin. Leo reaches for the headset before being swatted away by the mad scientist. He says nothing, but the string of pink glowing lights around his head indicate he's given another order. Mikey is by his side in an instant, pouncing on Leo and crashing him to the floor. Mikey bares his teeth and tries to bite him, but Leo narrowly blocks with his katana hilt. Mikey chomps down on it, growling as he tries to pull it away.

A mini missile strikes him in the back, and he turns to roar at Donnie.

"Mikey, you have to ignore whatever he's telling you to do! Wake up! It's US!!" Donnie shouts.

Mikey has had enough of their antics. His eyes burn bright, a series of scales on his neck lift up, revealing what almost looks like gills. They vibrate, charging up with a pink and orange glow. Mikey roars loudly, deafening the entire room. Visible sound waves pulse like giant ripples, throwing everyone off balance.

Donatello is knocked back, slamming into Raphael with a thud and a groan as the mystic shockwaves dissolve his hologram weapons, and disintegrate Raph's armour.

Leo watches as the portal he made evaporates, the markings on his arms and legs flicker out before dimming.

N-no... no, not again --!

Mikey jumps to Donnie and starts to attack. Raph shields him again, but Mikey snaps his teeth and bites down hard on his forearm. Raphael screams, shaking and waving his arm as he tries to get his baby brother to release. Donnie grabs Mikey and pulls. Mikey turns to snarl at him before wrapping his tail around his neck, placing him in a chokehold. Mikey grabs his two hands and clasps them together between his talon grip, essentially cuffing him. Donnie gags and gasps, sputtering as he slowly turns blue.

"Mikey!" Raph screams. "L-let him go--"

Mikey whirls around, maneuvering in such a way that he throws Donnie's body at Raph's head. The two crash to the floor. Mikey regains his stranglehold on Donnie as Raph tries to get back up. Mikey doesn't give him the chance, and punches him between the eyes, knocking him unconscious. Donnie slowly goes limp as well, his eyes rolling back in his head as he chokes-out. Mikey releases him once he's certain he also has succumbed.

He turns to face his last adversary.

"Mikey," Leo whimpers. "I-I know you don't want to hurt me. And I don't want to hurt you..."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Dr. Chaplin laughs. "He won't give you the chance."

Mikey rushes him, gaining speed before leaping and kicking Leo in the chest, crashing him into the wall behind him. The tiles and panels leading to hidden rooms crack from the impact, leaving a gaping crater. Leo coughs and holds his side, looking up just in time to see Mikey do a spin kick before the side of his foot collides with his head.

.

.

.

Mikey slips into the vents easily. The EPF should really work on their security, any nutcase could break in!

He crawls around, going deeper and deeper into the ventilation systems, floor after floor after floor. Every once in a while he can hear some animals crying and growling and barking loudly. He shudders at the thought of what they could be doing to these poor guys...

He pushes on.

Mikey hears a snarling sound, eerily familiar. It's animalistic, but not like any animal on Earth. It's alien.

He peeks through the vents to see the EPF men taking the krangified dude he saw from earlier into a lift. It's perfect luck that the angle of the vents lets him see the elevator room, a mirror glass on the back wall reflecting everything. He can see their reflections, he can see the button they pressed -- The very bottom floor.

Mikey goes in pursuit of them. He has to know what they're going to do with that poor man...

Mikey's almost there when his phone buzzes again. Probably Leo or Donnie, they've been calling him a lot. He picks it up and checks the lockscreen. Oh, it's Raph! Mikey guesses he wants to know where he is... He should have left a note or something. He answers.

"Shello?" He whispers.

"Mikey? Where are ya?!" Raph hisses at him. "I thought we said no inside stuff!"

"I saw a weird van pull up," he explains. "They took a krangified person in through the back."

"They what?" Raph sounds terrified. Mikey can't blame him, not after everything that has happened.

"Yeah, I know. I wanted to see what they were gonna do with him."

Because that's what heroes do! Mikey thinks to himself. That's what Raph always says, and that's what he expects him to say. Instead he's met with a panicked and desperate command.

"Mikey, I think you should get outta there."

That's not like Raph, why is he so scared? Sure, the place is creepy, but no creepier than when they broke into Draxum's lab that first time...

"I will in just a sec," Mikey responds, having finally made it to the bottom floor vents. "I think I found the room where..."

Mikey's voice trails off as he sees the entirety of the basement. It's a little dim, but there are a few lights here and there. Mikey flips the vent flaps open just a bit more for a better view. It looks like some kind of secret lab. Why is this lab separate from the rest upstairs? What's different about this one, apart from the colour scheme?

The krangified victim is strapped to a chair, several scientists standing beside him and a few guards with special futuristic-looking weapons pointed at him.

"Huh..."

"Mikey? Mikey, what is it?" Raph's voice hisses nervously through the phone's tinny speakers.

"I'm not sure... hold on a sec, 'kay?" Mikey whispers as he watches. He puts Raph on mute, just to be safe.

The scientists are talking about something as they operate on the guy, pulling pieces of krang flesh off bit by bit. Mikey can't hear much, just the occasional "Hold him still," "Be careful," "Not too much," etc. They're... curing him?

Mikey watches as a doctor takes a vial of the bright blue liquid April found. Guess these guys found it, too. Donnie made sure to release the formula publicly so the police could help save the infected people. The scientist fills a syringe with mixture, then inject it into a part of the krang on the guy's face. The krang screeches in agony, the flesh flailing and wriggling.

"Now!" he hears one of the doctors yell.

The scientists pull the flesh away, ripping it off of his face.

The guy yells, his eyes roll in the back of his head, and he flops over in his chair. One of the guards checks his pulse.

"He's alive."

Mikey sighs with relief.

"Good, now get him out of here before he wakes up," one of the doctors orders.

The man is slowly unbuckled from the chair and carried away by two of the guards, the other two remaining.

"Now, let's get this thing into storage for the next batch of test subjects," the head scientist says, taking the still-alive-but-barely krang parasite away and placing it in a jar.

Mikey crawls a bit more through the vents, trying to follow the scientists to wherever they store the parasite. How many more do they have??

Mikey gasps when he sees the centerpiece of the labs -- a giant cylinder tube housing the Krang Sister, her eye still melted from where April attacked her. She looks thin, wrinkly and emaciated. Her left eye is still intact and open, but unfocused. He can almost see her breathing if he watches hard enough. But there are parts of her missing, torn off, cut off, melted off, take your pick.

There's a cryogenic freezer cabinet or something housing her organs and severed limbs, along with so many other krang parasites. Bits of pink and pale purple flesh, teeth and fangs, claws and talons and nails... He sees a jar of just eyeballs, krang eyeballs... he recognizes a few from the traincar that attacked him and Donnie!

"Ohmigosh," he whimpers, unmuting Raphael. "Okay, that's enough for me, I'm coming out now!"

"Mikey?! What did you see, what's going on?" Raph asks, his voice high and shaking.

Mikey doesn't respond at first, he's trying to crawl away as fast as possible. He lifts up his phone to try and tell Raph what he saw, but his fingers slip and it falls. Mikey's heart stops as the device clangs and clatters against the metal with a hideous echo. He can hear the scientists start yelling.

"What was that?!"

"Something's in the vents!"

"Call security, we have a breach!"

Mikey quickly scrambles to get his phone, he starts crawling with lightning speed, not trying to be quiet anymore as his kneepads smack loudly against the panels. He knows Raph heard what just happened.

"I dropped my phone," Mikey whimpers into the device. "I think they heard me."

"GET OUT NOW!" Raph yells at him.

"I am! I AM!" Mikey whines, terrified.

He should never have come in here, what was he thinking?! If they find him --

There's a clicking sound from his phone as another voice joins the call.

"Raph? What's going --"

"Mikey's been made," Raph says in a hurry.

"Get out of there, now!" the voice shouts.

"Leo?" Mikey whispers nervously. "Is that you?"

"Mikey, we're on our way now," Leo informs him. His voice is stern, but smooth, feigning frenzied calmness as he tells Mikey what to do. "Just get out as fast as you can! Don't worry about whether or not you're seen, just get out!"

"I'm trying!" Mikey yells back, desperate not to let the sound of his tears come through the speaker. He turns a corner in the ducts, coming to a small fork in the road. Wait, which way did he come from? Which way gets him out of here?!

"I'm stuck in the vents!!" he realizes out loud, hoping somehow his brothers will help him -- maybe Donnie can look up the building plans and use that subdermal tracker to guide him, or Leo can make a portal, or --

Something pushes against Mikey's chest, slamming him into the top of the vent. One of the guards shoved the barrel of their weird gun thing into him and is trying to knock him down! The panels underneath him start to shake, the duct comes loose from Mikey's weight and the jabbing of the guards.

Mikey screams as the section he's trapped in falls to the floor. His phone hits the ground and bounces just out of his reach.

He looks up in terror and sees that he is surrounded by six or so people.

"There he is!"

"Get him!"

"Come'ere, kid!"

Mikey shrieks, trying to scramble away. His legs are grabbed by a scientist on the end as the guards rush and nearly tackle him, trying to secure his arms.

"Let me go! Stop! Leave me alone!" he begs, trying to wrench himself free.

Mikey kicks, shoving the scientist back and forcing himself up, lifting the security guards who have practically dogpiled him.

Mikey struggles under their weight, and reaches for his nunchucks. He's kneed in the gut by one of the guards, knocking the wind out of him and he falls, face mashing into the floor.

He can hear the cell phone, he can hear Raph and Leo shouting for him, yelling instructions or pleas for him to get to safety.

"Raph! Leo!" He screams, reaching frantically for his phone.

He just catches them shouting back to him before one of the scientists can smash his heel into the device, breaking it into pieces.

"NO!" Mikey yells, struggling against the men who hold him down.

"Keep it still," one of the lab coats say, grabbing a syringe with clear liquid in it.

Mikey growls as he pries an arm out from under their weight, shoving and pushing as best he can. His hand is grabbed by one of the scientists, the one who broke his phone.

"Let me go!" he yells. "Let me go! I wanna go home!"

"You should have thought of that before you trespassed on government property," says the scientist.

"What?! Who are you people?! What is this place?!" Mikey demands.

"A better question is, what are you?"

The doctor with the needle kneels down beside Mikey's head.

"Hold him still," he orders the others.

A hand is pressed against Mikey's head, shoving him down into the linoleum floor as hard as he can. Mikey shouts and screams in protest as the needle is stabbed into his neck.

It stings, the sharp pain masking over the feeling of the instant anesthetic being injected into his veins. He leans his head as far away as he can, trying to keep away... k-keep away fr-from... the... ttthhhhhe.......

Mikey is flooded with the oddest sensation of panicked anxiety meddled with forced calm as the anesthetic takes effect. It ends up giving him the biggest feeling of butterflies in his stomach, fluttering up into his head and through his limbs, making them light as a feather yet heavier than lead. His thoughts swirl messily, trying to stay tethered to reality...

A countdown starts in him. Mikey's limbs slow, relax, fall limp against the cold linoleum tiles. The tears in his eyes slip loose and drip down his cheeks. His breathing is deep and sluggish, he clicks his tongue and whimpers as he tries to make some kind of last attempt or argument to save himself. Mikey's eyes flutter closed... he vaguely registers the men climbing off of him and lifting him up, a doctor giving orders to carry him somewhere... Mikey mumbles a sleepy protest before his tongue and vocal chords seem to disappear... Everything disappears... Everything goes dark...

Where did Mikey go...?

Where are his brothers...?

Where is the world now... where... where are his dreams...?

It's all inky black void. It's all deep and mindless sleep.

Mikey has vanished.

Mikey's head rolls groggily as he comes back to reality.

Feeling seeps back into him, though his head is numb and still exhausted from the drug.

He can't move. His limbs are tired. And there's something cold and heavy against his wrists and ankles. Leathery straps tie him down by the waist and thighs and across the shoulders.

He slowly starts to register sight and sound, as a painfully blinding light is shined in his face.

"Ah, it's awake," a voice says. Mikey recognizes it as one of the doctors from the secret basement...

Mikey grumbles softly, squinting his eyes shut tightly and turning away from the light.

"Mmnngh... too bright," he mumbles in discomfort.

"Since you can speak, that means you can answer a few questions for me," the voice says.

Mikey can't see anything apart from the blinding light being shined in his face. He peeks one eye open and immediately regrets it; the light burns his retina and leaves spots in his vision.

"First off, what are you?" the scientist demands.

Mikey groans again.

"C-could you maybe turn the light off? I can't think straight with the full force of the sun in my eyes," Mikey half-jokes. Somebody has to fill in for Leo.

There is a huff of a dry laugh, followed by the dimming of the light. Mikey opens his eyes slowly, adjusting to the new level of brightness. There are a group of scientists in the room, each one staring and glaring at Mikey.

"Uh, hi, guys," he chuckles nervously. "What's the happs?"

"The 'happs' is that you broke into a government sanctioned facility for genetic studies," says an elderly doctor with frazzled white hair. "That's... well, that's illegal."

"And kidnapping isn't?" Mikey challenges. "I saw that guy you took. I saw what you did to him."

"We saved him," one of the doctors growls. "We were able to take the alien infection away from him --"

"You stabbed him with a needle and harvested the krang parasite!" Mikey argues. "And then you just took his body away!"

"He's alive," the elderly doctor says. "He's alive and well and back in his right mind!"

"Professor Honeycutt, if you wouldn't mind?" one of the other doctors grumbles. "We're in the middle of an interrogation..."

"O-oh, yes, right..." the elderly professor says meekly, cowering away.

"Now, how do you know about the -- what did you call it? Kang?"

"The Krang?" Mikey answers, confused. "That's... that's what they are. Didn't you know that? You've got the Krang Sister downstairs in your creepy cellar dungeon thing!"

"So, you DID see it," the younger doctor says. "Well then. That means you can't leave."

"What?!" Mikey gasps. "W-wait a sec --"

"Dr. Chaplin will be arriving soon, and what will we tell him when he discovers that there was a breach in security?! There have been setbacks after setbacks, and we have yet to provide a successful mutation --"

The doctor turns to contemplate Mikey. Mikey swallows nervously.

Uh oh.

"...I say we try it out on this one," the young doctor snickers before turning to the rest. "Prep him."

"Prep?" Mikey echoes. "P-prep for what...?"

"Do you realize what you're saying?!" the man called Honeycutt asks, pulling the younger man's arm away. "No, that's -- that's a horrid suggestion, Timothy! We can't just operate on -- he's a kid!"

"He's a freak of nature, look at him!" 'Timothy' shouts at the frail old man. "He's probably one of those mutant monsters that's been running feral on the streets these past two years. I don't see why we shouldn't."

"He's a sentient being! He has a higher intelligence than one of the rats or rabbits -- it would be inhumane!"

"Does he look human to you?" Timothy asks.

Mikey's heart is pounding in his chest.

"W-wait, please, I-I -- please, don't do this," Mikey begs. "I'm not a monster!"

"Maybe not now," Timothy says with a wicked smile. "But you will be."

The doctors place masks on their faces and gloves on their hands as they get ready. Mikey's head is strapped down and the light turned back on to its fullest extent, blinding him again.

"Wait!" Mikey screams. "Wait! I-I've got lots of other interesting things to talk about! I can tell you where the Krang came from, how we defeated them -- Please! You can't do this! Don't do this!!"

"I wash my hands of this," the older doctor says. "I won't have any part of this ridiculous madness.... I'm staying out of it."

"If you don't like it, then you can go back to working on your little robot pet 'Sal' of yours, or that android 'Ms. Campbell'," Dr. Timothy replies drably.

Mikey sobs in terror as the chair he's strapped to is lowered even further so the doctors can operate on him. Odd circular metallic suctions are pressed against his temples and cranium.

"Please! No! No!"

"You know, most of the mutations don't take very well, but considering you're already a mutie, that may mean you could survive this," Dr. Timothy teases. "I'm excited to see how your biology will react..."

"NO!!!" Mikey shrieks.

Mikey's ninpo starts to activate, the marks on his arms glowing as he struggles to pull himself free. One hand shatters a cuff.

"Hold him down!!" Dr. Timothy yells.

As Mikey is shouting and shrieking, one of the scientists lunges at him and holds his arm down.

A second doctor takes advantage of the fact that Mikey's mouth is open and starts shoving a tube down his throat. Mikey almost chokes on it as he struggles.

Mystic chains start to fill the room, a golden glow builds.

"Start it!! NOW!" Timothy shouts.

The doctor who shoved the tube down Mikey's throat pulls a lever connected to a big metal container. Pink and green glowing ooze starts flowing through, filtering into Mikey's mouth.

Mikey watches in terror, screaming muffled cries as he waits for the vile slime to pour through his throat and infiltrate his body.

It's cold and slick and slimy. As soon as it enters into him, Mikey's body starts convulsing. He howls, shrill and high and blood-curdling and despairing and pained. His body jerks every which way as it tries to reject the profane concoction.

The glow on his arms flickers out.

The golden chains in the room shatter and crumble away to dust.

Mikey is sobbing, tears streaming down his face as he tries to get free, tries to spit the tube out, tries to vomit up the ooze he's being force-fed. He doesn't notice the doctors preparing injection-devices by his neck, filling several vials and test tubes with different colored liquids and DNA samples. A soft mechanical whirring sounds, and cold metal clamps are pressed against his throat.

"Now!" Dr. Timothy shouts above the noise.

Mikey's world turns into a hurricane of static and unbearable pain as electrical charges course through him via the suctions pressed on his forehead. Needles pierce his skin and fill his veins with sludge and poison.

Mikey screams like he's never screamed before.

His body becomes a living x-ray, glowing bright blue from how much voltage he's taking. His skeleton is showing through the lights against a black silhouette. His body snaps and breaks and reforms. He can feel himself dying and coming back to life over and over again as he is morphed into something horrid, terrible, cruel.

Mikey blacks out. One last mercy his body bestows upon him, thankfully.

Mikey wakes up in agonizing pain. His limbs are a tangled, sloppy mess underneath him.

He can't move yet.

He can barely think.

All he can do is breathe and cry. The tears burn against his cheeks.

The position he's lying in gives his tortured limbs a numb buzz of pins and needles. Mikey tries to sit up, but trips over his arms and legs.

He doesn't know how to move them anymore.

They hurt too much. He can't feel them, but every movement he makes sends a rippling effect of horrid pain throughout his body.

There's something in here with him. A snake... a serpent... it slithers away from him. The slithering hurts... it... is it part of him...?

Mikey's eyes flutter open and closed as he fights to stay awake... and then fights to fall back asleep, be put out of his misery and just be unconscious. He doesn't want to hurt anymore.

His throat feels like it was mangled, burned, crushed.

His eyes sting like acid was poured into the tear ducts.

His hands ache, the palms are cut from where he dug his sharp nails and claws into them.

His feet must be disfigured, as far as he can tell.

His back is broken, the shell is shattered and cracked; he can feel air filtrating inside it.

But his head hurts the most. It is heavy and impossible to lift up. It aches and stings and pounds in a hundred different ways. His ears are stuffed up and ringing loudly. He's dizzy and disoriented. He's... so confused and lost... he doesn’t know how he got here. He doesn’t know what happened to him, or why he's hurting, or what he did to deserve this...

He doesn't know why he's longing for someone to hold him.

Someone that is blue. Or red. Or purple.

He's... he's unsure what those shadows dancing in his mind are, who those silhouettes belong to. But they mean something. They'll be coming for him, soon.

How he knows this, he isn't sure.

But he's a little scared for when they do find him...

Because, while he doesn’t know much...

...He knows he isn't 'Mikey' anymore.

He tries to sit up again. He somehow manages to do it, for two full seconds, before almost passing out again and falling to the floor of the cage, hitting his head against the metal.

Don't try to get up, Instinct whispers. Don't move yet. Rest. No moving, just rest. I will protect us now.

Mikey doesn't need to be told that twice...

His eyes slip shut.

Prev || Next

[fwitolei]

The Dragon Prince Thoughts 6x08 - We All Fall Down

Previous Episode // Masterlist // Next Episode

Join the Taglist

Spoilers under the cut

Omgg i’m so scared—

AHH

And it starts

Omg sol regem banging into the towers and stuff too this is wild

OH NO THEY’RE TRAPPED

Shit—

OH SHIT

SOREN NO—

Plsbeokayplsbeokayplsbeokayplsbeokay—

HE’S ALIVE WHOO

Omg babeee ur bleeding—

Now he’s really gonna have a scar like corvus

“Get everyone out”

See he learned from the pyrrah incident in s2 he’s prioritizing the people now that he’s not in the whole “xadia is evil” mindset

Hey wait where’s he going—

“Take good care of Hat.”

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??

SOREN—honey—wHaT aRe YoU dOiNg—

WHAT

AARAVOS IS CONTROLLING PHAROS—

Is this cuz the dark magic infection thingy

Omg viren’s been in there for a long time lmao—

“You have your other way! Dark magic!”

Notice how soren said “your other way” as if he still doesn’t condone it, but he knows it’s the only way to save everyone

Dark magic is so nuanced in situations like these like yeah it’s last resort but if you’re someone who hates it with a passion and then you end up needing it what are you supposed to do

Do you give up your ideals for the greater good or stand your ground and risk disaster

That’s why i love this show so much there’s no clear bad guy

“Take my heart.”

SOREN N O

S T O P

NO

I mean what else is he supposed to do yeah but STILL—

N O O O O O O o o O omg pls—

No not soren

Omg i’m so scared not soren PLEASE—

I’m actually gonna cry if he dies please no—

OH MY GOSH IS VIREN USING HIS OWN HEART—

GAHHH I CAN’T TAKE IT

Just as i forgave him too—

GAHH NO it’s the way he’s ACTIVELY DYING while doing the spell to the point he can barely say the incantation 😭😭😭😭😭😭

“I am a… servant.”

This scene pretty much speaks for itself idrk what to say

This shit is sad like fuck—

“My dad! I need to find my dad!”

CLAUDIA NO

Oooomg she’s gonna lose it if she finds him

Full azula mode

“What happened to your beloved mate who disappeared?”

If he says he ate her imma pop off—

Who even is aithne solaire? Was she mentionedin something?

“In your fury, you buried her.. Alive.”

WHAT THE FUCK—

Like actually???

Not the way aaravos just dies laughing after dropping the darkest most depressing truth bomb ever—

OMG HE ATE PHAROS

“Choke on your own pride.”

HOW THE FUCK IS HE CHOKING ON A TINY LITTLE ELF

Oh my gosh—

This is just brutal

i'm terrified of choking too so it's that much worse

AND HE CATCHES ON FIRE—

“I don’t think you should see him like this.”

Ugh i love terry for being so considerate after everything she’s done

Like yes save the last of her sanity while she still has it

This episode is hard to watch—

The voice acting is impeccable tho like give claudia’s va a raise

OH SHIT SHE FOUND THE PEARL—

Lujanne giving no fucks about the crown is the funniest thing

But wtf is she talking about the diamond don’t tell me it’s fake—

“Her dad just died. Can’t she just take a moment to grieve?”

FINALLY Terry’s talking sense like shit aaravos at least give her a minute—

I KNEW IT

I FUCKIN KNEW IT

VIREN’S STAFF HAS A QUASAR DIAMOND

I literally said it like 2-3 episodes ago too

WAIT THAT MEANS—

“I can only save two of them.”

Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me—

Alright y’all it’s a wrap. Katolis is gone, viren is dead, aaravos is getting out, it’s a whole ass shit show. Ooooooomg i’m scaredddddd. Especially when callum finds out the real pearl was in katolis all along, i guarantee you he’s gonna spiral like he did in kosmo’s vision. This episode was really hard to watch, I was surprised, but in a good way. One more episode to go, then season sevennnnnnnnn whoooo

Time to cry :D

[gimlilithegreat]

My main exposure to wicked before this week was 2 girls at my school who took every opportunity to glitter up and sing loathing and popular at each other.

So I knew Elphaba was green and the other one was pink. And they hated each other?

Defying Gravity is dope af so the original cast recording is on my go to playlist

I did Not That Girl in a singing lesson once but was convinced it was from Chess or something.

So me before Wicked:

- it’s some kind of high school drama with green people

- it has something to do with the Wizard of Oz

- Kristen Chenoweth is amazing

- Elphaba is in love with the Wizard? And is in a weird love triangle with the pink lady? And then she turns evil?

I heard villain origin story and was like ahh, yes, evil witch.

I know.

My best friend pissed herself laughing when I explained my understanding of the plot. IN MY DEFENCE she says “you can still be with the wizard” and how was I meant to know that was in a weird platonic, creepy fatherly way?!

I went to see it last Sunday. And then went to see in IMAX again today.

Omg guys.

I am in love.

So here are my impressions of Wicked:

- the costume department deserve all the awards

- I hope they do a hobbiton style place I can visit with these sets because the sets look immaculate.

- Anyone who watches this musical and doesn’t see the immediate parallels between the story and real life racism is willfully blind.

- I need Cynthia Erevo to release an album where she covers every song ever and Jesus Christ that woman can act.

- Ariana Grande’s comic timing is impeccable and her throwing props and failing to catch them in popular was iconic.

- Dancing through life, I would only accept that level of blatant, cocky charm from a gay man.

- That being said, anyone not in love with Jonathan Bailey by the end of this film is a stronger woman than I am.

- As much as it’s the least practical library I’ve ever seen in my life I want it so bad.

- Madame Morrible. What the fuck. I totally did not see that coming, Michelle Yeoh could manipulate me into doing /terrible/ things. Her name is literally Horrible with an M and I am still on that train.

- The frog fountain people in emerald city are incredible and I love them.

- Those monkeys are terrifying. But Michelle Yeoh turning and walking away from them is the best shot in the whole film.

- Jeff Goldblum is walking an incredibly thin line between quirky uncle and creepy uncle. And I am so not sure if that is as the wizard or if it’s just a Jeff Goldblum thing.

- Defying gravity has made me sob twice now and love it.

[shady-tavern]

Drabble for the Tailors on Baker Street

@stargotheart asked for a part two for The Tailors on Baker Street an age ago and I finally got around to writing it! Small warning ahead for implied abuse and murder.

*.*.*

Using your horrible ex-spouse's money for a good cause had only been logical and natural. There were many people in situations where they needed aid but didn't know where to go and you wanted to offer a space where they could get good counsel at the very least, if not outright a way out, be it bad relationships or debts.

You hadn't been alone in creating the charity house Daisy Chain, your friend Jane had been a massive help, as had been Julius and Milly. Their eyes had briefly lit up sunshine-gold when you had asked if you could use that particular name and you'd never forget the way they looked at you afterwards.

The way Milly had cupped your face ever so gently in her palms, thumbs smoothing over your cheeks and her smile as sweet as honey as she looked at you. Julius had taken your hand afterwards, touch soft and careful and he had lifted it to pressed a light kiss to your knuckles, gaze holding yours.

"Let us know if there is anyone who could use our particular kind of help," he had murmured, his soft lips brushing your skin and his gaze downright captivating, the color his eyes turning a dark, smoldering gold. "We'd love to take care of such cases."

You could admit to yourself then, as they had stood close to you, brimming with some kind of unnatural joy while still handling you with near intense softness, that you had started to fall in love with them. With these wonderful, strange and kind and lovely people who made you laugh until you were breathless, something you hadn't done for quite some time.

You did not care that their eyes held a golden shine, something human eyes should not have, that they sometimes whisked people into their backroom and you could never prove anything, but you had slowly pieced some things together by asking careful questions in the following days. Whenever they spoke with someone, at least a week or two later, a spouse or family member or acquaintance died.

It would have scared you in the past, before your marriage and it probably would scare others, but mostly you were...glad. That people who had no one else, who lived in darkness and fear as you had, as you still sometimes did when shadows in the shape of your deceased spouse followed at your heels, could turn to someone.

That someone would listen and do something when no one else would. If your fellow humans and the law and even faith was of no aid, there was someone else out there willing to offer a hand.

You loved them for that, too. A part of you loved Milly and Julius for caring, for seeing evil and destroying it. For extending warmth and safety to those who needed it.

That feeling of being safe around them had never disappeared either. To this day whenever you saw them, when you visited their shop or they dropped by your place in the evening, you still felt it. Warm and gentle and yet as steady and present as the sun and moon, as the tides that flowed around the world. They were safe and you were safe with them.

Tonight was the opening night for Daisy Chain and many of your former spouse's friends and acquaintances had shown up, commending you on your bravery in these trying times, as well as your altruistic, good heart.

Being widowed helped more than you had expected, though you weren't grieving at all, of course. It felt like people donated more out of pity than anything else, but you were willing to take what you could get. Especially if it ended up helping others.

Your downright decadent evening garb, made by Milly and Julius, seemed to get compliments from every single person that greeted you and even you could admit that you hadn't been dressed so finely even when your spouse had been alive. 

They had always wanted to look impeccable in the public eye and to be the envy of everyone who laid eyes upon them. Dressing you up like a decorative piece had just simply been part of that.

Milly and Julius on the other hand had hand-sewn you something so beautiful and fitting that just putting it on had given you more confidence. The second you had looked into the mirror, you felt as though you were looking at a fairy tale version of yourself. There was a shine to you that you had never seen before. 

Jane, your best friend who had been a steady source of support and cheer no matter what, had given you a very knowing grin when she had arrived with her beau. 

Milly and Julius had shown up a little while ago as well, mingling with the rich gentry, looking gorgeous and mysterious and they fit in seamlessly. Sometimes though you saw their smiles gain the faintest edge, their eyes tracking someone who you had heard unpleasant rumors about.

You regretfully didn't speak much with them, you were too busy socializing and they seemed to be doing their own little thing as well, but every so often your gazes met. Every time you felt your heart melt at the smiles they gave you. They looked proud and encouraging and so very lovely.

As the evening wound down, you found yourself glad to send your guests home, some more drunk than others. Jane was the one who ushering the last straggler out and into a waiting carriage. She waved at you with a grin and you waved back, mouthing a heartfelt 'thank you' at her.

She sketched a playful bow and mouthed 'always' back at you, before taking her beau's hand and letting him help her into their own carriage. She waved one last time as they drove away, looking tired but happy.

And then, finally, the stressful and yet very successful and exciting evening was over.

The only reason you heard Milly and Julius approach from behind was because they wanted you to hear them. Their steps still threading softer than a humans would and you knew from experience that they could walk utterly soundlessly. You looked over your shoulder at them, finding yourself relaxing fully.

"You did amazing work, darling," Milly said, voice quiet in the empty, large entrance hall and her eyes held a soft, warm golden shimmer in the candlelight. "You truly are beautiful inside and out."

"With a soul as bright as your spirit," Julius added. "Thank you, for honoring us with an invite. For letting us see you shine tonight."

This was another thing they did. They made you just a little speechless with the way they spoke with you, the easy-as-breathing compliments and sweet words and endearments. The way they looked at you. You hadn't had a desire to be close to someone in a romantic way after you had gotten married, but those two...

Within a year they had awoken many of your quiet, sweet little dreams about what love could be. You had buried those dreams upon your marriage and you had even thought them dead and gone until they had lifted your hopes back into the light.

You never wanted to marry again, but if it was them, if they would ever want you the way you had grown to want them, you'd be willing to offer up your heart one more time. To trust someone else with yourself, even if a part of you found the thought of such vulnerability quite terrifying.

"Tonight was quite the success," Milly said as she joined you by the window, the embroidery of her gorgeous dress shimmering in the candlelight. "Though you seem quite thoughtful now."

You might be biased, but in your opinion, she had been the most beautiful woman at the party tonight. She had easily charmed all other guests and no one had noticed her sharp gaze that missed nothing.

Julius joined her at your other side, elegant and tall and in your opinion, among all the other gentlemen, he had cut the most impressive figure. He had gotten everyone around him to relax, smiling and joking and casting him the occasional, admiring look.

You were the only one aware of the fact that people always said more than they meant to around both tailors. That they revealed things they hadn't meant to, especially when alcohol joined the mix. You had caught one or two startled faces as someone hastily excused themselves from a conversation or quickly changed the subject.

"You're just both on my mind," you answered honestly, allowing yourself to be a little daring, riding the feeling of relieved success that seemed to lend wings to your heart and soul. "Could you learn anything useful from anyone?"

"Oh, plenty," Julius reassured you with a charming smile, one that had enough of an earnest edge to let you know it wasn't one of those empty, charming smiles he offered to polite society. "Don't worry, we got everything we wanted and more."

"Even had we gained nothing, we would have greatly enjoyed ourselves," Milly added, drifting an elegant step closer to you, her decadent dress brushing a little up against you. "We came here for you after all, first and foremost."

While that was true, you were glad that they would be able to help more people going forward. It was strangely reassuring to know that dangerous, nasty folk in positions of powers had predators after them. That, even if the law didn't do anything or even protected them, someone would still come for them to stop them.

"We will always be there if you want us to be," Julius added, voice dropping to something quieter as he reached out, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingertips warm and slightly calloused as they brushed your skin, causing a pleasant little shiver to travel down your back. "You have become quite dear to us."

"Very much so," Milly agreed and both of their gazes felt warm and heavy on you. "Which is why, if you are not too tired yet, we'd like to speak with you."

You were still riding the euphoric relief of a successful evening and while you knew the exhaustion would hit hard later, for now you felt wide awake.

"I have time," you reassured her, glancing between them curiously. "Is there something I can help you with?" You'd do everything you could to be of aid to them, that was for sure.

"This is no business talk," Milly said and grew more serious, her faintly golden eyes drawing you in with their intensity. "I want to say first that one word from you and we will never speak of this again, nor do we want you to feel like you have to say yes."

"No matter your answer, you will remain our cherished friend and you can always count on our aid," Julius added, just as solemn and serious and intense, his gaze capturing and holding yours when you glanced at him.

A thread of nervousness wove through your gut and around your heart, but it was far smaller than it would have been had anyone else approached you. Because Milly and Julius were safe. They might be dangerous for others, might be downright deadly, but they were protectors at heart.

Even now, as they stood close to you, that feeling of safety was there, the candlelight illuminating everything softly and warmly. It felt cozy and private and comfortable and it calmed every one of your anxieties. It soothed the part of your heart and soul that still carried deep bruises from your previous marriage. 

"Alright," you said, carefully lacing your fingers together to keep from fiddling with anything. 

You had no idea where this was going, but as you looked at them, at the way they watched you, a quiet hope you didn't dare voice began to rise within you. It unfolded weightless wings that seemed to fill your entire chest and before you knew it, you had taken a small step towards them.

They didn't miss that. Of course they didn't and you felt fingertips brush your hands and you easily unlaced your fingers to reach back. Hands that were quite different from each other, one slender and the other big, but both warm and calloused and they held yours as though it was made of spun glass.

"We never expected you to become such an integral a part of our lives when we met you," Milly said, voice growing softer and her smile was sweet and so very hopeful it made your breath catch and your heart flutter. "But the more we got to know you, the more you grew into the person you wanted to be, the more we enjoyed your company."

"We've both found ourselves looking forward to your visits, counting down the hours until we could close the shop and head over to your place," Julius said and when he reached out with his free hand, seemingly unable to help himself to cup your cheek, you couldn't help but lean your head a little into the touch.

His hand was warm and calloused and never anything but gentle and safe and he was solid and grounding.

"We talked at length about this," Milly said, her slender, strong fingers interlacing with yours in that same, gentle and safe manner and giving a little, reassuring squeeze. "If we should even say anything, if our affections wouldn't be entirely misplaced."

"They aren't," you whispered and your heart seemed to fill with so much bubbling hope you wouldn't have been surprised to see it spill out to stain your skin that same, beautiful golden glow that you saw in the eyes of your tailors.

"Then let us to be blunt," Julius said and his small smile was hopeful. "We found ourselves caring deeply for you and we hope that you might allow us to love you."

"We know you know we're not human," Milly added quietly. "But if you want us, we will gift you our hearts as surely as we gave them to each other. As you have welcomed us into your life, we'd welcome you into ours."

You didn't even have to think about the answer. Not when all your quiet yearnings and hopes and soft feelings and your longing for love wove into one big strand that tugged you towards them.

"You shall have my heart in return," you answered, your grip tightening on their hands. "For as long as you want me, it is yours."

"Forever then," Julius said quietly, smoothing his thumb over your cheek before he used the hand that cupped the side of your face to guide you a little closer. "Sweet one, let me steal a kiss."

You'd let him steal that and so much more if he wanted to. You closed your eyes and leaned up, his lips brushing yours with the same love and care he had shown you in all other regards.

"We'll take you out tomorrow," he whispered as he pulled back, he smelled faintly of champagne and something that reminded you of sunshine dancing on cool water, the sort of smell you wouldn't have found on a human partner. 

"We might have been planning a couple of possible dates," Milly added as he pulled back and you turned towards her. She was smiling so happily it filled your heart with even more joy in return. "We'd love to court you properly."

"You don't have to," you said as Julius' hand slipped away and she took a step forward, her slender, elegant hand settling on your other cheek. Her touch felt just as steady and grounding and safe.

"We value too much to not show our appreciation," she said, leaning in and you turned towards her like a flower to light and her soft lips brushed your cheek, then the corner of your mouth and you turned your head just enough to meet her next kiss.

She too smelled like champagne and sunshine on water and her kiss pressed a little deeper than her husbands and you allowed yourself to get lost in it, in her, until she pulled back.

"I might have some plans myself," you admitted, thinking of all the times you had daydreamed about asking them out and them saying yes. Of showing them beautiful gardens and hidden little spots in nature outside the city. Of inviting them to art galleries and theaters and festivals.

"We look forward to them," Julius said, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, while his wife smiled and kissed your cheek again. "Will you let us take you home tonight?"

"Yes," you answered with a smile. Tonight and any other night. For as dangerous as you knew they were, for all that they weren't human, you knew their hands would be nothing but gentle and careful. 

You could put everything you were into their hold and know, down to the marrow of your bones, that you would be welcomed and treated with care. That they had grown to love you as much as you loved them and despite the shadows lingering, the bruises left on your mind and soul, you could entrust your heart to them as surely as they had offered theirs to you.

*.*.*

You'd like to support me writing more of my nonsense? Please consider checking out my patreon, where I upload a short story every month!

Tag List:

@those-damn-snippets @the-cash-cache @queenofbooknerds @14-lizards-in-a-trenchcoat @fern-writes-whump @bexterbaileyw @setsailforthestars @piperjistic @addrai @catloverlawyer @permanentlydepressedpigeon @tama-on-vetta @marateleam @transpareentdiplomatlandgoth @aprilraine @myst3rious-figur3 @warriorofbooks @pigeonwhumps @laureleikirsch @sillypeachduck @fractalabomination @basilikum7

[neonovember]

Careful

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4 5 6

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

divider by @firefly-graphics​ !

Taglist 🏷️ (send an ask to be part of my taglist for this series!)

@tinkerbelle67 @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @nomadstucky @nessie2183 @shamelessfangirl-3 @namelesssav @marvel-phoenix @euphoric-goddess @roseeatta @abschaffer2 @louderfortheback @stupendouslovegardener @wandamaximoff-simp @thedonswife13 @hpsimpspot @samsgirl93

The sound of chirping birds sifts through the linen curtains draped over the balcony doors, and the gentle breeze of the early morning cause goose bumps to arise across your body strewn about the disturbingly large bed.

Through the haze of half-sleep, you peek one eye open, catching the enormous ceiling-high windows overlooking a meticulously manicured lawn, with tinted cars parked on the cobblestone driveway and everything's all wrong and this isn't your house.

Your heart drops to the depths of your stomach, and everything slows like a picture, you squeeze your eyes shut to will yourself back into the slumber you had just felt before but all you are met with is a nauseous burn crawling up your throat.

You can't think twice before you shoot up from the bed, miraculously finding the bathroom just in time before pouring the entirety of your stomach into the porcelain toilet. You weren't one to get sick, no matter how much you had used that excuse at work, and the putrid stench of day-old liquor rang familiar in your mind as you continued to dry heave.

You don’t waste time before reaching for the flush, watching the disgusting weakness of your strength wash away into the underground sewers, you can't bare to look at yourself and you wish you could wash away the embarrassment just as easily.

Your preoccupation with yourself has momentarily distracted you from the alarming reality of the foreign room you had awakened in, and you suddenly feel that fear blooming within you for the first time in weeks. You hadn't really noticed, but you were less scared of well, everything when Steve had inserted himself into your life, and now you wished you could go back.

Your ears perked up for any sign of movement outside your door but it was desolate, you reached for a candle stick perched on the basin before opening the bathroom door. Eyes surveying the expansive room, you can't help but expect your husband to barge in, laughing down at you as you were captured within his palm yet again.

The prospect wasn't entirely outlandish, you know your husband owned several properties he kept in secrecy, and you hadn't had the stomach to find out what he had them for. Yet something was gnawing at the edges of your mind to step forward, like an unconscious shadow within you, guiding your body towards the door and stepping into the room you had run from. The fear was there, as it always was, but you weren't holding your breath, your body didn't chill from the air of evil that always seemed to emit near your husband.

Your eyes survey the expansive bed situated in the middle of some sort of guest room, even despite your hasty escape, the room looked impeccable, wainscotting outlining the ceiling-high walls, with the shine of sunlight pouring in from the balcony windows like honey.

The marble floors reminded you of your own bedroom you had occupied for years months ago, and suddenly the elated feeling of luxury leaves just as easily as it came.

It unnerved you, being in the presence of such opulence after months of your bare quaint apartment. Even though you had lived in it for years before, it was never truly yours, this life was never truly yours. You were only ever borrowing it until your husband would find the balls to get rid of you.

Your eyes catch a note on the bedside table however, and written in that elegant ink that belongs to only one man that had strung you along in the palm of your hand is placed on a silver tray, along with a pill and a bottle of water, still cold from the tap.

Your fear begins to dissipate from your stomach, as you realise that your anonymity had remained unchanged, and you weren't back into the cage of your husband's imprisonment.

You reach for the note, eyes skimming the perfect lettering you secretly envy;

“You got into a little trouble last night, brought you here to keep you save”

You scrub your face with a hand, mentally thanking him for not delving into the details of what you knew was a haunting moment of weakness.

God, you can’t believe you had done that, let yourself get so weak you sunk back into an addiction you thought you had overcome. It was harrowing how quick it had happened, one moment you were walking home and the next you were crowd-surfing across the bar.

“P.S, take the pill, it’s Advil and if I really wanted to poison you I would’ve done it in your sleep”

You scrutinise the white chalky pill anyway, observing the A outlined in the middle, you roll your eyes before looking down at your attire. Pink striped Pajamas.

You bristle as you realise he would have had to undress you whilst you were in a haze of drunkenness.

And suddenly that’s enough to reignite the temper that had been stamped out by the waves of liquor you had foolishly consumed.

He had lied to you, even if you felt protection here, he had lied, and he did it straight to your face. Did he think you were foolish? Just a stupid girl from a town no one knows that he could take advantage of? You couldn't bear to keep the fueled rage burning within you.

Reaching for the Advil, you swallow it with gulps of water that ease your parched throat, before searching around the enormous room for the clothes you had gotten drunk in. You find them folded neatly on an ottoman to the side, and make quick work of slipping them on before storming out of the room.

You don’t know where you're going, the endless hallways are as foreign to you as the paintings occupying the walls, but you follow the dyed carpet’s twists and turns hoping to stumble into Steve’s office.

Your mind is too preoccupied with the rage brewing within you, your eyes fail to catch the figure watching you closely from one of the hallway doors, causing you to stumble into a brick wall of pure muscle and heat.

You catch yourself at the last minute, looking up to meet familiar slate-grey eyes peering down at you in interest

“You’re up already?” Bucky says, his hand coming to steady you but retracting at the last minute and falling back into the pocket of his suit jacket.

“I want to speak to Steve” You reply, ignoring his attempt at small talk, or more so his declaration of your consciousness.

“Steve? Well-” Bucky beings before you cut him off momentarily

“Don’t give me that bullshit alright? I need to speak to Steve, now” You reply in indignation, Bucky watches you carefully, eyes scanning across your face as he nods slowly. You don't notice his eyes fixated on your fists wrapped in a tight fists. Your voice falters toward the end and you hope you sound as confident as you feel.

“Follow me” Bucky replies with a sigh, and as you walk side by side with Bucky, the click of his dress shoes clashes with the gruff sound of your work boots. You would never harmonise with this life, it's as clear as the shoes you wear.

You try and memorise the left and rights that Bucky takes you, as a kind of backup in case things go wrong and you need a way out, fast. It’s irrational you know, but you can only blame your husband for destroying your idea of rationality.

Bucky turns down a corridor, and you are immediately met with a rush of men in suits carrying boxes and briefcases, leaving and entering the enormous double french doors situated at the end of the hallway like an army of ants. Men stand stationed outside the doors and along the hallway unmoving, like formations of statues pillaring themselves in front of Steve.

The glint of their guns shines iridescent against the morning raze, and you understand that Bucky has some sort of clearance as they merely nod without a word as you pass them.

You and Bucky are about to pass through the double doors before a familiar face pokes at you, eyes widening at your presence in a clearly confidential space, the man that had talked with you with Bucky those weeks ago murmurs into Bucky's ear, the gruff sound of his voice hidden beneath hushed whispers.

You crain your ear to catch anything, but all you can make out is Bucky’s whisper of your name, along with “last night”. Sam shifts his gaze towards you, and a look you can't quite decipher falls over his face. Bucky is continuing to whisper to Sam but he doesn't take his eyes off of you, and finally, after a moment he simply nods and opens the door for the both of you.

The oak doors open into an enormous office space, the panelled french walls are washed with a chestnut gloss, oil paintings of war and glory hang on the walls and every corner has a designated purpose. A bar towards the left is graced with brown liquor in glass bottles and you have to turn away from it to calm the churning in your stomach.

Situated in the middle is a large walnut desk, carved with intricate patterns and relics along its sides, matching leather seats surrounding the desk, the floors a deep mahogany wood you crave to feel the cold touch of beneath your toes.

Men surround the office, some stationed behind the balcony windows, others near the bookcases lining the ceiling-high walls, and you don't notice it at first, but the second you walk in, everything stops. The sound of urgent whispers and conversations comes to a halt as they all stare towards you in fixed interest.

You didn't know this, but there had been no other individuals besides Steve’s men and himself, who had the ability to step foot into this floor of the house, let alone Steve's own office, and they can't help but ogle you like a piece of meat.

You catch their eyes all over you, pulling your stained cardigan closer against your body, you feel Bucky bristle beside you, his grunt of disapproval towards the men, shooting a silent warning that causes them to look away without a blink.

Steve's dirty blonde hair is tousled across his face, and he mutters something under his breath as he looks up from his seat at the office desk. His eyes immediately find you, unblinking as he never leaves your face, the papers in his grasp fall to the table, and let out an exhale as you match his gaze.

Bucky coughs and it’s as if Steve finally realises you're not the only person in the room,

“She wanted to speak to you,” Bucky says, his shoes tapping against the wooden floors, Bucky gives Steve a silent look, nodding towards the men fixated on your presence.

“Did I tell you all to stop?” Steve says in a booming voice you've never heard him use.

They all immediately get back to the phone calls in their hand and the tasks they had ignored at your expense. Steve stands from his seated position near the desk, his suit jacket laying over the office chair, leaving him in a crisp white shirt with a leather shoulder holster tucked into dark black suit pants.

Steve nods towards the balcony, and you step towards the glass doors slowly, you can feel the heat of Steve's hand near the small of your back, gently manoeuvring you through the room and men and through the doors of the balcony.

The gentle breeze of the morning lets you finally let in a breath you hadn't realised you had kept in, your eyes find themselves looking towards the manicured lawn below, gardeners and housekeepers are knelt pulling and plucking at the overgrown weeds, snipping away at leaves and bushes until they were smooth and pristine. Flowers are planted across the lawn, in a discreet way that makes you notice how the colours harmonise, and a ceramic fountain near the middle sprouts out water that shines against the sun.

You notice stepping stones snaking their way to the edge, leading to a vines archway where a vegetable garden hidden under a mesh covering meets your gaze, you try and look further past the vines walls, seeing the top of what looks like a stone pavilion under a low hanging tree that looks like its melting, but Steve steps towards you and you stop immediately.

“You wanted to tell me something?” Steve says, and you look towards him, eyeing his expression. He looks like he truly wants to listen to you and hear what you have to say despite the business of his life.

“Yes, I uh-” You start before the balcony doors open, and a slicked-back mop of black hair enters the balcony, the sound of a voice that you wish you would never hear again causing your stomach to twist into a sharp knot.

Rumlow whispers towards the man stationed beside the balcony doors, relieving him from his position and instead taking his place. His eyes find your own frozen ones, a glint of a smirk pulling at his features and he raises his eyebrows mockingly.

Steve notices the sick look that falls over your face, his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion at the sudden change in your demeanour.

“Hey, hey, you alright?” Steve asks in worry, but you can't take your eyes off of Rumlows condescending smile, as if he had known you would be here, his eyes almost threatening you to tell Steve what he had done before the tap of his pistol causes you to swallow down the bile rising from your throat.

“I um, I uh” You stutter out, and Steve looks at you in worry, his hands coming up to steady you causing you to flinch automatically.

“Fuck” Mutters Steve under his breath and he quickly retracts his hand, he begins to say something but you can’t hear anything besides the ringing in your ear and the rhythmic tap of Rumlows gun.

You shake your head, hands in tight fists that cause indentations to form in your palm, Rumlow clocks his head to the side, behind Steve, giving you a silent warning

Careful.

And he walks through the balcony doors and back into Steves's office like he was never there.

You let out a constricted breath, squeezing your eyes shut before opening them to make sure he was truly gone, Steve gently murmurs your name, and you turn your attention back to him, meeting concerned eyes.

Steve's words finally break through the surface, and your grapes his arm, causing goosebumps to arise across your skin. Steve looks up at you in surprise, his large hand coming to wrap yours around his, feeling the rapid beat of your heart slamming against your chest.

‘Just focus on me, alright? Don’t worry about anything else, I just want your eyes on me, okay? Can you do that for me?” Steve whispers, and you nod slowly. Watching the swirls of blue and grey clash like waves within his eyes.

You stay like this for a while, until the rapid beat of your pulse slows to a rhythmic beat, but Steves keeps your arms wrapped around his own, and you hope to god he does feel the goosebumps arising on your skin.

“What happened just now?” Steve says after a beat, his brow locks falling over his face

“I uh, I don't know, I just starting feeling sick,” You say, teeth biting down onto your bottom lip in nervousness.

Any other time that excuse had worked, whether it be at work or family or any other instance when you felt the ground beneath threaten to give way. But the way Steve looks at you now, in that air of scepticism, it’s like he doesn't believe a single thing that left your mouth.

And it's like you've been called out, the embarrassment of lying causing you to look away.

Steve sighs before nodding,

“I’ll get one of my men to arrange your drive home,” Steve says

“Could you, could Bucky take me home instead?” You say, and Steve looks towards you, a glint of something in his eye as he looks through the windows of the balcony doors, eyes fixated on Bucky before replying with a strained sure.

You step towards the balcony doors, hand coming up to grasp the handle before Steve stops you

“We are going to have to talk about it eventually,” Steve says

“Talk about what?” You turn your head to meet Steves's gaze

“Talk about why you're scared shitless of Rumlow” Steve replies, and you towards him in open-mouthed shock.

How did he know?

Steves share a pointed look, “I see everything, even things that happen behind my back. When I see you later tonight, do me a favour?”

You nod quickly, shutting your open mouth.

“Don’t lie to me” Steve mutters, before opening the balcony doors for you, his hand pressed tight against the small of your back as his warmth tickles the side of your neck.

[black-rose-events]

Villaintine's Day 2024: Evil Schemes Masterlist

(Total: 25)

Evil Scheme 01

Sidekick is the mastermind who’s been foiling Hero/Villain’s attempts, not Villain/Hero

Evil Scheme 02

Investigative Reporter is close to unraveling the plot of the century and Detective isn’t ready for their cover to be blown (either corrupt or secretly Hero/Villain!Detective)

Evil Scheme 03

Detective who has to investigate a string of crimes and ends up discovering more about Villain than they ever thought they would (could be an identity reveal or a bigger plot or a “the Villain is actually the good guy and X is actually the antagonist)

Evil Scheme 04

Wants-to-do-Good Mayor x Jaded!Hero who just wants to go home (bonus points if you pit Jaded!Hero x Committed-to-Evil!Villain against each other too)

Evil Scheme 05

Corrupt!Mayor x Usurping!Villain (villain could be good, villain could be evil and just want power for themselves, it’s up to you!)

Evil Scheme 06

Hero/Villain who barely escapes/defeats Hero/Villain and knows it’s hopeless in the long run but keeps trying - lose the battle, win the war type thing

Evil Scheme 07

Responses to “I love you”:

“Oh, you poor, poor thing.” *laughs hysterically.*

“…What?”

“Oh you lovesick kitten, you fell in love with the wrong person.”

*Laughs hysterically.* “Hilarious, impeccable timing.”

“I hadn’t pegged you for the type to fall in love. I was thinking of angles, researching, trying to figure your actions out. But we both lost. You fell in love and I didn’t even think of that being your reason.”

“I don’t understand.” // “Of course you don’t. Your brain’s all drowned in red roses right now.”

“Yes, yes, we get the joke.” // “No, I’m not joking.” // “Well then, you’re an idiot. Or mistaken. Or under a spell.” // “No, I’m not!” // “Yes, you are.” // “If I was, then I wouldn’t still be here arguing after you laughed in my face and just called me an idiot.” // “Exactly, if you weren’t, then I wouldn’t have called you an idiot. You’re not in love with me, you just think you are.” // “Excuse me?” // “You heard me, you’re mistaken, darling.”

“Hehe, thanks. Soo, anyway—” // “Wait, what’s your reply?” // “Huh?” // “I said I love you” // “Oh, yeah, I said thank you. Thanks. Have a good day.” *Turns to leave*

“Aww, sweetheart, no.”

“Aww, sweetheart…no.”

“Aww, sweetheart. No.”

“Cool. Be cooler if someone loved you too.”

“If only there was someone out there who loved you.”

“Aww, I love me too.” *Goes about their day.*

“No, you don’t.” // “What, of course I do.”

“Um. No. You don’t. You’re in love with the idea of me. Pretty normal, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find someone. Good luck.”

[Bonus] “No, but I really do.”

[Bonus] *Tears in their eyes* “But…”

Evil Scheme 08

Responses to “I’d die for you”:

“Then perish.”

“Then perish.” They said it with steely blank eyes. No emotion on their face.

“Then die."

"Then die.” And they punched them in the face and walked over their body.

“Then go ahead,” they said, waving their hand dismissively, “You have my permission.”

"…Cool.“ They gave a big smile and walked away.

"You will.” and pushed them off.

Evil Scheme 09

Civilian!Kid keeps showing up to Hero’s and Villain’s fights, heckling Hero/Villain and ends up becoming a thorn in both their sides

Evil Scheme 10

Retired Hero x Retired Villain but the grudge is still going strong…just in retirement so it’s over things like shuffleboard or the local baking competition or something

Evil Scheme 11

Investigative Reporter keeps getting in the way of Detective’s investigation (for a romantic twist: and keeps putting themself in danger)

Evil Scheme 12

Hero and Villain know each others’ identities and try to inconvenience each other as civilians as much as possible

Evil Scheme 13

Klutzy!Villain x Unlucky!Hero

Evil Scheme 14

Mad Scientist x Magic!Hero/Villain

Evil Scheme 15

Mad Scientist x Mad Magician

Evil Scheme 16

Mysterious!Villain x Hero Who Can See Emotions

Evil Scheme 17

Abstract: Hate potions

Scheme Ideas:

Maybe Whumper (Villian/Hero/Civilian/Mayor/Sidekick/Henchman/etc) gives Caretaker a hate potion so they don’t like whumpee anymore. Maybe Whumper gives a hate potion to whumpee. Or (!) Caretaker mistakenly drinks a hate potion and becomes a whumper👀 There are options😈

Evil Scheme 18

Gentle Supervillain x Investigative Reporter

Evil Scheme 19

Sassy!Villain x Adorable!Henchperson

Evil Scheme 20

By-the-Book Detective x Chaotic!Hero

Evil Scheme 21

Vigilante x Pesky!Reporter

Evil Scheme 22

Chosen-One-Hero-Turned-Villain x the powers that chose them

Evil Scheme 23

Evil Scheme 24

Hero knows Villain’s identity. Villain doesn’t know Hero knows.

or

Villain knows Hero’s identity. Hero doesn’t know Villain knows.

Hero’s and Villain’s civilian personas are lovers…but Hero and Villain are nemeses

Evil Scheme 25

Injured hero/villain/sidekick/henchman shows up on Civilian's doorstep...but their whumper isn't far behind them.

-------------------

(Please see the rules and guidelines for more about whump do’s and don'ts for our event😊)

Villaintine’s Day 2024 Ways to Participate

[smileflowcrs]

open starter: @anchoragestarters where: all hallow's evil when: october 31st, 9pm

kim dabin lingered on the edges of the celebration, a solitary figure, apart from the kaleidoscope of revelry. the ember of the lit cigarette hung from his lips flared briefly as he drew in a breath, glancing at his watch with the kind of casual detachment that belied the question: why, exactly, had he agreed to this? ALL HALLOW'S EVIL ; what a spectacle! what fun! but for whom? certainly not them. and yet, he had come, dressed impeccably as tuxedo mask, a shadow of nostalgia brought vividly to life. the black cape draped elegantly over his shoulders, its crimson lining a stark contrast to the deep midnight hue of his suit, top hat perched at a calculated tilt, while the mask concealed just enough of his face to let his expression remain his own—a quiet mix of boredom and bemusement. stoic gaze swept across the sea of various cartoon characters in search of one person in particular, the one who'd convinced him to be here in the first place. still no sight of him. the bastard let out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh, whichever one it was meant to be.

after grinding the smoldering butt of his cigarette beneath his shoe, dabin pivoted and headed toward the drinks booth; might as well have another, right? it'd ease his worries, at least, and— OOF! a sharp collision. the remnants of his drink surged over the rim, cascading down his wrist and soaking the glove that clutched it. “ aish, ” he hissed, a scowl on his face, eyes fixed on the once-pristine white fabric, hand held aloft. exasperation. averting his gaze completely, he tugged the glove off, voice steady, but with a hint of annoyance. “ you should really watch where you're walking. ”