#the guy who took down a blackmailer that had half of the city in his pocket and the chief of police and multiple mafia members

[science-lings]

AU where Beanix gets more involved in the criminal world during the dark age of the law and becomes buds with Viola which accidentally makes him chill in the eyes of the Italian mafia and that makes his reputation a little more interesting

[dormanta036]

it's about half past three at night and I really want to rant about my characters and my... deviation from canon, let's call it that. how do you, guys, feel about anti-villains? in my potential future fanfic (or all least in my drawings) my nerevarine is anti-villain and antagonist for most part of story.

he forced the more worthy in his opinion candidate to mantle nerevar, while convinced everyone dagoth ur included that she is true incarnation, only for using her as a weapon agains temple when the sixth house will be done away with. the same sixth house to which he swore allegiance and for which, in fact, for most of the story, he works honestly. because he needs their resources to get rid of the empire and because he need influence the opinion of the sixth house regarding cooperation with camonna tong, convince that they are untrustworthy and aren't useful enough for being allies and should be replaced or better destroyed so they won't create a trouble.

in other words, his idealistic stubborn soul is determined to fight at all with everyone at once, using enemies and allies, pitting them against each other.

he has an idea of ​​​​an ideal world and, in an effort to create it, he deceived and betrayed everyone who was close enough to him and almost drove himself crazy. how so? he was tired of imperial corruption and lawlessness, angry with the slave-owning orders of morrowind, saw stagnation in the theocracy. in his eyes vvardenfell was a cup filled to the brim, from which all anger will soon overflow. instead of waiting for the catastrophe to happen, he decided to try to get it under control, direct it to the destruction of what should not be and try to hurt everything else as little as possible. but there will be destruction and shambles. this is the burden he will have to bear. he started and won the war, reduced the influence of the temple, hunt down and killed almost all of crime syndicate members, destroyed the heart... and burned down half the cities of vvardenfell in the process.

his "nerevarine project" results both of his denial about being incarnation and wish to stabilize chaos he created by beacon hero-figure, direct consequence of learning about mantling from his telvanni friend's rant. nerevarine himself was sure that he couldn't be that hero, cause of his deceit, hypocrisy and cruelty. and he already played a different role in this party. the hero would definitely not have to be either a sixth house spy in the house hlaalu or a master thief, if the latter was still acceptable, since the thieves guild had the potential to become something more worthy, then the former was not. at least not such a terrible combination. the hero must be convincing, not to achieve his goal by manipulation, threats and blackmail. it had to be someone more in line with the temple description of the nerevar. it has to be someone who won't hesitate to strike. definitely not him.

despite nerevarine's always existing plans of betrayal, was he really...devoted to dagoth ur in his own way? they ill relationship is a thing that I have no idea how to integrate into the narrative from the perspective of my protagonist. i will simply say that the plans of the nerevarine, somewhat distorted under the influence of the heart, included the death of the nerevarine himself at the hands of a false incarnation as part of the mantling of the nerevar by the false incarnation, and the nerevarine himself in this scheme, respectively, took the place of the voryn dagoth. that, provided that dagoth ur will be dead by this time and the nerevarine himself will die while mantling voryn dagoth it should make them the one. well, he wishes to believe it will

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, mentions of murder, unclear timeline, blackmail, unprotected sex, fingering (F!receiving), smut, esoteric references to past abuse, manipulation, Dark!Fic

Words: 5.2k (holy fuck?)

Summary: You need his help. He names his price.

Notes: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 and her incredible 5K Soft!Dark Challenge and I can't believe I wrote over 5k words for a oneshot, making this the longest piece I've ever written. I took a blend of prompts: Mob!AU; “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this;” and “That’s a big favor you’re asking for, I think you need to make it worth my while.”

And this was intended to be a oneshot but now I can't stop thinking about it so thanks Siri, I think this is now a part of my WIPs too! Your work is amazing and I had a blast being able to take part in this!

As usual, my work is 18+ ONLY, Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You went to him first.

You went to him, handed them your business card and I want to speak to Steve Rogers.

Honestly they almost threw you out with an extra hole in your head but then the man of the hour walked right in.

So now you’re here. Now you’re here, sitting across a gorgeous dining table with a ten-course meal laid out and honestly you’re surprised they didn’t tie your wrists to the arms of the chair while you watch him eat and take in the look of those baby blue eyes scanning you over.

He even brought you non-alcoholic rosé, when you said you didn’t drink.

So.

So.

You wanted to talk to me?

Yeah, I do. Thought you’d just sit me in your office, have a consultation.

I like breaking bread with new friends. Have a nice dinner, get the wine flowing — of course, that’s not gonna loosen your tongue, but we’ll forgive it.

Oh. Cool, I like being forgiven.

He laughs at that one and the room, strumming with tension, snaps into amusement. So do you, cracking a half smile on dark red lips, before swallowing down the lump of anxiety threatening to break through and destroy everything. You need this. You need this and you can’t let anything — not your nervousness, not your morals, not him — stop you. You need this and it needs to be done and if this is what justice is in this fucking city then so be it.

Well, sweetness, you’ve got my attention. You want to talk business or pleasure?

That one makes you laugh, a little sharp and a little cruel, and the curling smirk on his face gets a little furrowed because he hears it too — pain.

It could be both, you say finally, picking up the glass of rosé-that-wasn’t, if your reputation is as real as they say it is.

He lifts a bite of cheesecake into his mouth and lets it melt on his tongue while he watches you, somewhere between impressed and incensed. You know the look — you saw it the last time he met you in court, but you weren’t there as allies then. Never thought you’d come to me, he admits finally, sounding halfway bemused at the idea, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Counsel?

You wince, or maybe smirk, eyes on the man before you.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse, and the woman you thought you were thirteen months ago when you put four of Steve Rogers’s best men in jail for fifteen years — fifteen years longer than any District Attorney had ever managed to do before you, and you were just the rookie they handed a shit case to — is leagues different from the woman you are now, seated prim and proper in the lion’s den.

You’re not innocent. That’s not been your game for years — this life doesn’t leave room for innocence, it tears at you, leaves you tired and broken and ill.

Your colleagues learned to fear him a long time ago, the man before you. Captain America, leading the city, the country, the world into a new era of high tech crime all under his thumb. It’s a pretty shiny shield, the one that sits behind him, but mirrors are black on the other side and his soul is dark as coal.

You’re not an angel yourself, and this deal with the Devil isn’t for anyone but you.

I need someone taken care of.

So you come to me? I thought you were a lady of morals, Counsel.

Certain kinds of morals.

You can see him smile, see the way he raises his glass, the glimmer of malice and amusement in his eyes. So tell me. What’s the name?

You give it.

He’s not in the city, your target, but he will be. A Judge, an activist, real tough-on-crime-sweet-on-justice type of shit. You don’t tell him the reasons why, because those are yours, but you tell him the name. You tell him he’s a problem, you tell him he’s dangerous, you tell him you’ll pay to have him taken care of, you tell him you don’t want to practice in front of that black, black robe.

And he smiles like the Devil he is, watches you with a grin and drinks his whiskey in one last shot before slamming it down, Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

You said that when we met the first time.

He’s a hunter, you can see it in his eyes. That lion’s mane might be tamed right now but it won’t be for long and you’re playing with wild animals. The eyes on you are ice and daggers, daring you to do the one thing everyone in the office has been begging you not to do.

(Drop the charges, Rookie, the case is just to get your face in front of the judge.)

You upped the charges.

(Rookie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’s other cases.)

You subpoenaed his phone records.

(Rookie, don’t make me drag you off this case!)

You won.

You had no witnesses and a jury you had to drag in from god-knows-where after you proved, over and over again, that he’d paid off the cohort in the courtroom. Finding people with nothing to lose and a desire to do their civic duty wasn’t harder than you thought — it was exactly as impossible as you expected.

But you did it.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? Push and push and fight, claw your fingers at the ledge and pull yourself up, you pay for your crimes in your blood, sweat and tears you pay for the things you could have done then and didn’tdo.

You pay.

And sometimes, that payment bounces back.

And when it was all said and done, when the closing statements were delivered, when the Jury came back out and the Judge — hands shaking, mouth agape, eyes wide — read out the verdict no one expected, you… didn’t feel any better, did you? There was no justice for you in that room, just the searing glare of ice-blue eyes and the burning of your steel spine.

Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

First words he said to you, while the courtroom emptied out and you stood there, facing the man you’d just made an enemy of with your briefcase in your hand and your eyes aflame.

I did my job.

Did you? Is that what you think your job is?

My job is justice, unflinching and blind, Mr. Rogers. I don’t care how much power you have or how afraid you leave this city, I’m going to do my job.

You could always let justice turn a blind eye.

Yeah. I could, but that wouldn’t make this any fun, would it? Thank you for the win, Mr. Rogers — I’m sure I won’t get many more.

You leave him with a smile on his face and the scent of your perfume in his memories.

He leaves you with the pride of victory in your bones and a reminder that your strife could be worth it.

One day.

How do you plan to fill that pit, the one you tossed the corpses of your old self into? The one you let them claw up out of, to haunt you? Remind you?

You’re digging your own grave and you know it, but you won’t let Steven Grant Rogers be the first one to toss a handful of dirt over your corpse.

But now here you are.

In his dining room, enjoying dessert and some sort of after-meal coffee. In need of him…

This might almost have been a date, if not for the topic of conversation.

So. You want a Judge taken out. What if he’s already on my payroll?

Why would you keep a dead man in your pocket?

You like the sound of his laugh, and you don’t even have the excuse of wine to fall back on when it warms your core. Don’t admit it though, don’t say it aloud, don’t let him get an in. Be smart, cross your legs tighter, keep your eyes on the prize.

You’re so close to the finish line.

That’s a big favor you’re asking for, Counsel, I think you need to make it worth my while.

Worth your while?

I’m not a charity. And since you put the guy I usually use to handle these things behind bars for a few years—

You know I can get him out too.

That’s not payment, that’s putting things right.

You take a drink. Steady on, girl.

I’m leaving the DA’s office.

That stops him.

Oh that stops him good, and he looks fascinated. Interested. You’ve said something he can use as leverage and it’s not just about a job. That smirk on his face is smug and his eyes are darker and he has to know the impact that look has.

Can’t falter, don’t falter, don’t give in.

Am I allowed to ask why?

No.

You’ve done your research. You just don’t know why you’re thinking about it now. Steven Grant Rogers, “Captain America,” leader of a crime family that had too many names to stamp out, bolstered by a mad scientist, a military man through-and-through who turned New York into his own private base against whatever stood against his way.

Get in his good graces and you’re set for life. Get in his good graces and you’re safe, you’re protected, you’re good.

Get on his bad side and you only make that mistake once.

There are no second chances in this game, and here you are, asking for one.

So what? You leave the DA’s office, you leave yourself open to me — you think leaving New York is going to be the thing that stops me, Counsel?

No.

Then what?

Breathe. Steady.

I know you gave me that win on purpose — you could have taken out my last jury cohort. This isn’t about the four men… and you know I’ll get them out. This is something else, but I’m not here to ask about what or why.

He falters just briefly, like he’s surprised you knew, but the crack in his mask smooths itself over as soon as it forms and he’s back to watching you, nodding along in silence while you breathe and watch him and keep talking.

But even then. I got four of your guys in prison. And I know how your organization works — I subpoenaed the documents, remember? Your lawyers are good, but they’re not used to people asking the right questions. You want someone to seal up the cracks you need someone who actually knows what to look for.

You have more than his attention, you have his interest, and now he’s leaning in a little. Imperceptibly, but enough. Scanning over you from across the table, like he’s thinking how you managed to get so impertinent in the face of the likes of him but that’s the thing — when the only thing you have left to lose is your life, you’ll risk everything.

So what are you offering?

Breathe. Don’t. Stammer.

Myself.

The chair scrapes and suddenly there’s the clicking of guns, aimed and ready until his hand rises up and he stops them and he’s stalking towards you.

This is the lion’s den, sweetness.

The stakes are higher and you ought to be braver and he’s got your chin in his hand before you have a chance to react, dragging you to your feet. Do you know what you’re offering me, Counsel? Low and hissed and hungry, like those perfect teeth might be sinking into your throat in the next moment.

Oh, you have no idea.

You get me. On your payroll — you know. The offer you sent me a year ago.

You think it’s still open?

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have met with me.

The chuckle in your face makes your cheeks warm and you’re looking more flushed than you would like, the open shoulders of your dress suddenly feeling a lot more like a mistake the more you realize just what kind of meal he might make out of you tonight.

We might need to have a discussion about your workplace duties, Counsel.

You don’t notice the hand near your thigh until it’s too late, sliding up the soft fabric of your skirt until it’s squeezing your ass, until it’s jerking you towards him, until you’re pressed against his chest and the hand on your chin is now hooked around the back of your neck, thumb pushing your jaw until you’re forced to look at him. Won’t lie, when I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this, having your pretty little body in my arms,and you can look as indignant as you want but he’s got the upper hand and you only thought you were two steps ahead of him.

You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to put you in your place, Counsel? You’ve got a smart mouth — I wanna know what else it can do.

He doesn’t give you a chance to use that mouth to lash at him, lips sliding over yours, swallowing that indignant yelp with a punishing kiss. Nipping at the plushness of your lower lip until you open your mouth and yield to him with a sigh of reluctant surrender, let his tongue slide past that barrier for him to explore. He’s got his fingers wound through your hair, just a little too tight and whether the whimper in your chest is because of the pain or because of the want, he doesn’t care.

Knew you’d be sweet, Counsel… softly, when he pulls back to look at you, take a look at those love-swollen lips and your ruined lipstick, the pretty way you pant at him already, the heat burning your cheeks. Pay no attention to the slick warmth between your thighs, pay no attention to the way he makes you burn already, pay no attention to how your fingers have curled into the lapel of his coat to hold yourself steady, pay no attention to how you suddenly miss the pressure of his lips.

All that smart-talk and now you’re quiet, Counsel? F’I knew it just took a kiss to get you to shut up, I would’ve done that at trial, he’s purring in your ear, soft and sweet and you should push at his chest, so uncurl your fingers girl and push.

I didn’t say I was selling my body, there’s your harshness, and there he is, laughing at you again, the grip on your hair jerking your head back until you’re looking into those dagger-cold eyes again.

You don’t make the rules here, Counsel, I do, and you need me more than I need you. So if you want to make sure your Judge can’t start wreaking havoc on your career… you might want to get used to readjusting it for me. I promise I’ll make you feel nice, if you let me…

And if I don’t?

Then I take what I want and I don’t feel bad for not holding up my end of the bargain. Your choice, Counsel, you cum willingly and I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t, and it’ll hurt you more than it hurts me.

That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, and suddenly you’re more scared than you ever thought you’d be, wondering if you’ll need to sell another part of your soul to take him down after. How much of yourself will you put up as collateral to get justice for the wrongs you were never able to correct?

You’re afraid.

Oh sweetness, you’re afraid.

Here? Now?

No, Counsel, we’re gonna do this right, aren’t we? You wanna be in bed with me, I’ll take you to bed with me. Come on, say it. Say the word.

Say no. Say no, rail and fight, stamp your heels into the expensive leather of his shoes, jam your knee into the sensitive between his legs, scream and yell and tell him you will never let another man take advantage of you again to help you reach your goals. Do it. Do the thing you swore you would do the next time a man like him — men who think they can take anything from anyone, men who think they own the world and the women in it, men who think you aren’t strong enough to fight back — propositioned you just like this.

You’re selling your soul to get rid of a man just like this.

But that’s coiling heat in your core that wasn’t there the last time, was it? That’s want. That’s the realization that you like the way this predatory smile feels, that you like the way this one wants you. You’re not her, not scared and alone and helpless. You could fight back and run and maybe escape if you were lucky.

You could choose.

He’s let go of your hair to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers, soft and sweet, You gonna give me an answer, Counsel, or am I gonna have to take it?

Say something. Say no. Scream. Say no say no say no say— Yes.

It’s a whisper. A desperate, soft whisper. A helpless, lonely whisper. It’s enough.

He sweeps you around until you’re pressed with your back against his unyielding chest, feeling him flex with every movement, broad arm wrapped around your shoulders from the front. All of you are dismissed, and that’s when you remember there were others in the room with you. Others who just watched you concede to becoming Captain America’s newest plaything and the burn on your cheeks is more shame than lust. You pull at his arm briefly, futilely, earning a tighter hold for your efforts and a whispered don’t make me choke you, before you are half-walked, half-dragged out of the dining room.

The walk to his room is slow and agonizing as you’re pulled along, barely struggling but barely helping at the same time, tears sliding down your cheeks as you come to terms with what’s going to happen next — no one is going to save you tonight, no one’s going to interrupt and drag you out, this is your job and this is your place and here you are.

No one speaks. There’s no sound but the steady tap of your heels and his shoes on fine marble. Even your sobs are silent, even your breathing is muffled, until the stairs are traversed and the faintest click of a lock turning opens the door to the rest of your life.

You made a deal.

Time to pay.

Sit on the bed.

You move as if in a trance, and he watches your face, the hint of waterproof mascara failing to do its job, the smudged ruby red of your lipstick. Don’t give me that look, you knew what you were signing up for when you walked into this house, Counsel.

His hands are gentler than you’d expect, when he wipes away the streaks your tears leave down your pretty cheeks, coaxing you to look up at him, We’ll set ground rules later. Tonight? I wanna see if I can get that mouth of yours to beg for me.

It won’t, you snap without thinking, knifeblade sharp and cruel, ready for a fight again. He promised you that once, in a hiss you thought you’d misheard but no, you heard him just fine and now if he thinks he can quench your fire and have you pleading just because you sold your body for the prospect of revenge then he’s wrong.

Thing is, he laughs like that’s a challenge, and the hand holding your chin so gently is wrapped around your throat before you know it, silencing your voice with just the right application of pressure. I can do this all night, Counsel. Do you think you can last that long?

Fear. Anger. Indignation. You are fury made flesh and he is manipulating you with just the barest press of his palm and sliding over you, until you’re laid out there on soft sheets and he’s looming over you, splaying that big hand out and sliding it down your throat, over your chest, feeling the ruching of the fabric under his palm. You wrapped yourself up like a present for me, didn’t you sweetness?

The change in nickname isn’t lost on you but here you are, glaring up at him while he smiles so beatifically it leaves your blood boiling and your skin steadily warming. The rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, every angry breath a swear you don’t utter, every inhale your protests dying in your throat. What can you say, what would you say, right now? There’s nothing that can change the way he looks at you, or the way his eyes flicker from ice to blue fire the more he takes stock of the pretty little thing he’s about to start sharing his bed with.

Fuck, you’re beautiful, that one shocks you, but not as much as the sudden rush of cold air when he tears the emerald green fabric of your dress down and reveals the soft swells of your breasts, nipples peaked from the sudden cold.

You don’t get much time to gasp, just something soft and strangled before he turns your voice to whimpers, wrapping lips around that pebbled tip and laving his tongue over sensitive flesh. Where are your words now, Counsel, while he threatens the softness of your chest with the scrape of his teeth, when he slides his hands over the round curve of your thighs and parts your legs so he can press himself between them, so he can press himselfagainst you? Where is the knife-dagger of your wit to protest each soft, suckling kiss to your skin, each press of his fingers like he could just squeeze his ownership of you into the plushness of your hips, into the sweet swell of your ass? What do you say to the dirty little thrust of his hips as he bucks with his own burning need, reminding you just how much this is for hispleasure as he will make it for yours.

You would, could, should push him off and instead what are you doing? Curling your fingers into the silk-smooth of his comforter, desperate to writhe out of your own skin away from the burning pressure between your thighs, the foreign, unfamiliar heat you suddenly feel like you might be craving.

Anyone ever touch you like this before me, Counsel?Warm breath splays across your skin when he questions you, eyes fixed on yours and he waits. Answer him, answer him, tell him he’s nothing, tell him you’ve had better, lie and destroy that ego, lie lie lie lie—

Nnnh—no.

He looks like you’ve just told him the best news of his life, eyes wide and blown with lust, Oh is that right? You’re saying no one’s ever touched you this good? Or just no one’s ever touched you at all?

You don’t have to answer. The furious blush on your cheeks? The way your eyes slide away from his? The way you writhe, trying to press your thighs together to relieve the pressure and finding the effort futile? If the man’s grin could get any wider, it would, right now. Oh sweetness, we’re going to have so much fun exploring your body together…

He pulls back just enough to take a look at you, already flushed and writhing and overwhelmed and if he could take a picture of this right now he would. He’ll save that for later though. Tonight? Tonight is just the two of you, and his hands are back to your skirt, pushing the tight fabric up over your round hips and revealing the lace of your panties… just before he rips them off, to the sound of your indignant yelp Steve!

You’re going to call me Captain, sweetness, we’re not close enough to use my name just yet.

No. No you’re not, and he’s not sure you’ll ever be — he rather likes the idea of hearing you whimper out his title when he gets you desperate and wanting.

He touches, slow and steady, watching you try to jerk away and tutting at you when you do, fingers at your delicate nerves like an assault on your pleasure. Bite your lip, bite back the moans, whine at him like he’s wounded you, You’re so wet, sweetness, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you, as he palms his cock to relieve the pressure on himself. You’re going to beg before he does and he’s patient, he’ll last the night.

St-stop it, it’s too— he shushes you ahtahtaht and rests his free hand on your mound, holding you down so his probing, inspecting fingers can take stock of the velveteen plushness of your delicate cunt. It’s too much, too much and you want to scream the moment he presses one finger into you, already overwhelmed, already so tightly wound the barest touches are unraveling you steadily.

You’re such a pretty thing, all desperate and needy, sweetness. You wanna cum already, don’t you? So busy, never gave anyone the chance to fuck that stuck-up bitch right out of you, did they? It’s almost pitying, isn’t it, the way he talks, hums at you while you’re reduced to a whining, whimpering mess so soon, so desperate for the release he’s on the edge of denying you, feeling you flexing around his finger and then the second leaping jolt of your body when another joins the inspection. Taking careful stock of the pretty cunt he owns now, and he’s careful to curl his fingers just right as he seeks the spot to hammer just to get you to scream.

You don’t, not yet, but that’s okay too, because he sees the way you take desperate hold of the sheets, the way your eyes roll backwards just slightly, the way you strain against his heavy hand to arch your back. Gotta tell you, sweetness, I imagined you under me a thousand and one ways but this one, right now? Tops the list. You ready to beg for me?

Do it. Do it and end your pleasurable torment. Do it and be released from the pressure, the coiling want. Surrender to him. Let him have you.

The white hot rush of your orgasm is not unexpected to him, his curling, cruel fingers having found the sweetness of your g-spot, but — you, too busy climbing the ranks to think of your own pleasure, too busy demanding your due from an unjust world explore your own warmth beyond that of a memory of a college hookup you would rather forget — you left breathless and wanton in the heat of the explosion he draws out of you, mewling something desperate and pleading against your own will and the song of it fills his ears like it’s all he’s ever wanted. There it is, and I thought we’d be here all night. A thumb flickers over the nerves at your entrance and you practically jump, something between a yelp and a moan escaping your lips.

First one’s just a treat, sweetness. Now on, you cum when I say you do, understand?

You nod.

Oh you nod, and you are lost, here and now. Sensitive and broken and there is so little of that steel spine here, writhing in his sheets and ohyou don’t know the things you do to him.

Think you can go again, sweetness? He’s purring, smug, twisting fingers stretching you slowly, muttering under his breath about how fucking tight you are around his fingers, how good you’re going to feel for him, and the smugness on his face is slowly fading into a dark consternation, brows furrowed like he’s somehow angry at you for being plush and delicate and fuckable.

You’re almost begging him to stop, and yet the pressure is building again, the twisting, coiling heat that leaves you breathless and mewling and he looks like he might be trying to immortalize this moment forever. Say it, sweetness. Say you need me. Beg me for my cock.

That’s it.

That’s what you need to, you need to beg, you need to give in. No more fighting, no more arguing no more —

Please…

Please what, sweetness, come on now. You got a way with words. The snarl is so barely contained.

Please, Captain, please just…

What do you need, sweetness? The fingers are relentless, the buzz in your nerves is overwhelming, you can barely even hear yourself talk, much less him.

Please just fuck me, Captain, I need your cock! It’s hurried and it’s crude and it’s desperate and it’s exactly what he wants as just another wall crumbles and you fall off your pedestal right into his arms.

He’s barely able to resist the buck of his hips, the need to be inside you, the knowledge that you are soft and velvet and you could be all over his senses just like this.

When did he free his cock? You don’t know, you just know it’s practically salvation when he sinks into you, when he fills you like you’ve been desperate for and Oh sweetness…pours from his lips just as you hiss out something like praise right back at him.

You’re so full and he’s so gentle, at first, like you’re made of crystal in his arms, like the slow shifting of his hips might have you shattering underneath him if he’s not careful. Cradling you, even, sliding your legs around his narrow hips as he leans in and takes a hungry kiss from your wanting, whimpering mouth.

Love this look on you, all wrapped around me, whispered low and slow into your ear, sweetness you have no idea how good you look…

Melt into those compliments, melt into him, because the way he’s holding you is divine and you can feel him so deep in you it’s making your head spin. When did your arms end up around him? When did you start clinging to him like an anchor, start winding your fingers through his hair, start leaving the marks of your nails on his back to the sound of his own needy groaning?

He noses your cheek and leaves a mark of ownership on your neck with hungry lips, knowing you’ll bruise a beautiful flower right over your pulsebeat and continuing the steady assault on your nerves, cunt-first.

Harder. Faster. More.

And oh, sweetness, you do shatter.

You shatter all around him, you shatter into something divine and rapturous, full of him and filled with him and he cums so deep inside you as you do, still fucking you through your joined climax, hips rutting and breath hitching and nearly furious at you for the way his vision whites out too, the way he feels like he can Never get enough and so he hisses that at you like an accusation while his thoughts reorient back to reality, back to smugness, back to the control you took from him while he tried to strip you of yours.

In the end, as he pulls away from you and sinks to the side of you, watching your sweet expression as you return to the reality of your new situation, he is satisfied… thoroughly.

Oh yeah, I think we can make this a working relationship, Counsel.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Red Hood (Part 1)

Summary: While on a job, the reader runs into The Red Hood. She discovers his true identity to be Dean Winchester from one of the wealthiest families in the city. She knows he’s made a few enemies and tries to take advantage of that fact to get something she needs in return...

Masterlist

Pairing: Vigilante!Dean x criminal!reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, fighting

A/N: Enjoy!

________

“Oh, crap,” you said, feeling the binding around your torso. You thought you’d made it out clean. But if it was someone using a gadget like that, it wasn’t any security guard. You grunted as you saw a figure emerge from the shadows, a hood up and a mask covering his eyes. “Let me walk and you can have the money.”

“Not my style,” he said. He walked over carefully, tilting his head at you. His cautious approach stopped when he suddenly stepped over and ripped the mask covering your face off. You scowled at him but he simply stared. “I’m taking you in.”

He bent down and you used the opportunity to swing your legs up and wrap around his neck. He went wide eyed and glared at you but you smirked.

“Goodnight Mr. Vigilante,” you said. He tried pulling you off but he lost consciousness quickly. You let him drop to the ground and moved your leg back, managing to grab the knife in your boot. You sliced through the lower bindings and eventually got the ropes off. You almost left when you saw the unconscious Red Hood on the ground. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little blackmail after all. You pulled out your phone and pushed down his hood, ripping off the mask over his eyes. You took a few pictures of the man, something familiar about him.

You grinned when you recognized him as the ward of the biggest tech company in the city. 

If you played your cards right, a week from now you’d be loaded and sipping mai tais on the beach, never having to worry about pulling a job ever again.

“Shit!” you shouted the next evening, jumping straight back into your counter. The Red Hood was standing silently at the edge of your kitchen, narrowing his eyes at you. He threw down a manila envelope on the counter and stalked over to you.

“I don’t negotiate with criminals,” he said.

“I don’t think it’d look too good if Dean Winchester were to be found out as The Red Hood. With all the crimes you’ve committed yourself. I bet that’d ruin a few of your family’s contracts,” you said. You reached up to grab his hood when he caught your wrist. “I felt I was very generous with my offer.”

“Fifty million is generous?” he scoffed. He shoved your wrist away and put his back to you, tugging his hood back. He slipped his eye mask down around his neck and glanced over his shoulder. “I should throw you in prison.”

“For stealing from rich people? They can afford it just like you can afford this. Take it out of your trust fund. I bet no one would even notice,” you said.

“What do you need that much money for?”

“What do you need it for? None of your business.”

“The answer is no.”

“Then I guess your photo of you out cold at a crime scene in your little costume will be on the news very, very shortly.”

“It’s an excessive amount,” he said.

“Your family is billionaires. You got the cash.”

“I can’t move that much without red flags.”

“Figure it out.”

“I could just make you disappear,” he said, stepping in front of you. “You couldn’t stop me.”

“You only murder the bad guys and unfortunately for you, I just steal things and knock people out. It’s not justified. Your old partner, that bat guy, even he didn’t kill people,” you said.

“He let me down, more than once. I do things the way they need to be done,” he said. “Don’t think because you’re a woman you get special treatment.”

“Wouldn’t expect it,” you said. “Give me my money and you will never hear from me again.”

“Five million.”

“No way.”

“Five million a month for the next ten months,” he said. “It won’t raise too many eyes. I can justify a cost for that.”

“Fifty. One payment,” you said, crossing your arms.

“What the hell do you need with that much money?”

“Maybe I want to donate to charity. It’s not your concern. You have three days to get my money into that bank account. If you don’t, you and your entire family’s business are going down. Have I made myself clear?”

“I will find all copies and when I do, you’re gonna have a big problem. Count on it.”

He went out your back door and you rolled your eyes, already making plans to have extra copies out there just in case.

Three Days Later

“You’re good,” said Marcus. You stared at him and he smiled. “You’re clean kid. Debt repaid with interest. Your family is safe again. Any interest in working for me again? You’ll get to keep some of the profits now.”

“I’m not meant for this line of work,” you said. “Lose my number?”

“You’re not as bad as you think. Just got a pesky conscious. Enjoy retirement,” he said. You hummed and quickly left, taking a deep breath. 

Half an hour later you were heading to the airport with five million dollars in your bank account and ready to go start over.

Two Days Later

“Nice view,” said a voice behind you. You sat up from your chair by the pool, staring up at Dean as he smiled. “Nice house. A little smaller than I was expecting for fifty million dollars in the bank. If you had fifty million that was. More like five now, hm?”

“I still have copies,” you said as he sat in the chair beside you.

“Oh, I know,” he said, stealing your drink. “Whoa, fruity and a lot of rum.”

“What do you want?”

“My plan was to hunt you down and get my money back and get you to give up the copies and get you thrown in prison. But I’ve had a change of heart.”

“Really. Just like that.”

“If you told me innocent lives were in danger, I could have been a lot nicer. Marcus is an unforgiving criminal. But even he could let a mistake go for forty five million, right?”

“I owed him ten. The thirty five was interest. I screwed up a job when I wouldn’t kill a guard. He lost the pay. I started working for him most every night to pay it off. If I didn’t, he’d deal with my family over on the other coast. He’s connected enough to have them watched. For forty five million, they are safe.”

“Sounds like you owe me five million dollars,” he said, holding out his hand. “Fork it over.”

“I can’t live there anymore. I need to be out of that city,” you said.

“You’ll come back eventually. But you owe me five million dollars,” he said. You dropped your head and sighed, resting your head in your hands. “Or you can give me every single copy of the photos and agree to never steal another thing in your life and in exchange, I will pretend you didn’t take five million for yourself.”

“Are you serious?” you said, snapping your head up. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Why would you do that?”

“Why didn’t you tell Marcus who I was? That would have cleared whatever you owed and then some,” he said. You shrugged and he smiled. “I have a sneaking suspicion you’re a good person. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the other criminals.”

You reached to your left and grabbed your phone, deleting the picture and then permanently deleting it again.

“You never had copies,” he said.

“Nope. You could have taken my phone and that would have been that.”

“Then I guess that settles that,” he said. “Nice place to retire to.”

“Yup,” you said.

“Mind if I crash here? Considering I bought this place and all.”

“Why are you staying here?”

“I did something yesterday. My old partner called me up, told me I ought to take a break for a bit. He had some valid points,” he said. “No one’s ever knocked me out before.”

“I have many skills,” you said. He chuckled and stretched out his body.

“I bet you do. So am I staying?”

“You can stay if you get me a refill,” you said, taking the glass from him and drinking the rest of the liquid. You held it out to him and he sat up.

“Alright. Don’t go running off on me again.”

“I think this time I’ll stay put.”

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart.”

“For now.”

“Oh really? Where you thinking of going?”

“Home to Gotham. Eventually,” you said. He stared at you and glanced down, nodding to himself.

“How about a nice vacation in the meantime?” he asked.

“After you. Sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[tinyboxxtink]

"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 1?*

So this is interesting:

So "Not My Yacht" was my very first fic. Like, I'm talking VERY VERY first.

So when I started asking around about ideas for a new series, a few of my lovelies went through my one shots and this story and "Doodling" got some good votes.

So, I decided to include the one shot and just added to it for a POTENTIAL new series. We'll see how this chapter goes over.

Also I'll be including Rita Calhoun in this for the FIRST time ever, so I may need assistance from @storiesofsvu to get her voice right. I did my best here. I'll be honest I've never really watched her, just that one where that guy blackmailed her or something.

Also Also, if it wasn't obvious enough this is obviously the beginning of the SVU episode "Her Negations".

I don't want to give anything away because I haven't even really thought that far, but I'm 95% sure this is going to turn in a William Lewis situation fic. So...pretty dark. I'm just warning you NOW.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

And yes, the results are in. There is a part 2!

You breathed in the salty air of the sea of the sunny South Hampton shore; It was a beautiful day for a yacht party.

You walked along the pier as you got closer to your boss’s boat: The Crime Wave. Her husband’s idea of a funny name she claimed as she had invited people from the office to this soiree. You were lucky to even get an invite, just being the assistant to the owner of the law firm. “Who else is going to help me dodge boring conversations with men who just wanted a "free ride” on the bosses boat?“ She had teased you; or at least you hoped she was kidding.

You really wanted to just relax and mingle among the elite lawyers of NYC, seeing as you wanted to be one of them someday.

You saw your boss, Rita Calhoun waving you down as you reached the dock space.

"Ah! There you are, for a minute I thought I’d have to mix my own drinks!” She laughed with a wink. You laugh nervously, unable to discern if she was kidding.

“Calm down sweetie, I’m a big girl. Besides, I like to make them myself, strong,” she laughed again, patting your shoulder. Crap had your face looked that panicked? Keep it cool!

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here, making sure none of those damn punks tries to sneak on here for free booze,” she scoffed, nodding to a group of highly dressed teens playing chicken on the shoreline.

You nodded with a half laugh, stepping onto the yacht. It was a decent size, a second level deck and a very spacious main level. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, so you decided to pick a spot on the yachts back bench area before all the seating was taken. You began removing your over clothes revealing your swimming wear when you hear Rita greet someone else.

“Ah, Barba. You know we have flare guns on board,”

You turn to see the ADA of New York, Rafael Barba. He’s dressed in a windbreaker and what could be either a dark red or salmon polo. You realize Mrs. Calhoun is referring to the almost neon yellow color of the windbreaker, and you can’t help but giggle. It must have been way too loud because they both turn to you which caused you to immediately shut up and go back to undressing and laying out your towel, but ever so slightly still honed in on the conversation.

“You can never be too careful Rita, who knows how many enemies I’ve made in this town; someone might throw me over,” he smirked.

“And anyone here could make it look like a very convincing accident….even my aspiring protege over there,” Rita nods over to you, knowing full well what you were doing.

Barba turned and looked at you, your body frozen in mid towel thrust. You didn’t know whether to throw it over yourself or just run off the boat right there.

“I know it’s an awful jacket dear, you don’t have to keep staring at him.” She called over to you. God why did she have to be so….her.

“Jesus Rita give the girl a break, or did you invite her just to torture her on unbillable hours?” Barba scoffed with a half smile, walking over to you.

“Is it really worth the minimum wage to put up with her?” He asked.

“Mmm…it’s more for the experience, honestly.” You replied surprisingly smoothly.

“Oh….well I mean I could give you the experience without–” He started but was interrupted by your boss’s loud exclaiming.

“Yeah I’ll BET you’d give her experience Barba! Stop hitting on my intern and mingle with the adults.”

If you could dig a hole straight through the boat into the ocean you would do it right then and there.

“…..Without THAT.” He rolled his eyes, lightly flipping her the bird behind his back. You see her respond with a laugh then turns her attention back to the guests boarding.

“She’s probably been drinking since she got on the boat, yeah?” He asked you.

“I…I don’t know I just got here….” You managed to squeak out as your towel strayed from your hands. Barba grabbed it and helped you reposition it on the bench.

“Kinda windy for a yacht party, but Rita will take any chance to celebrate anything remotely resembling a boost to her ego. Am I right?” He chuckled, before sitting down on your towel.

“Just to keep it from blowing away, do you mind?” He asked, gesturing for you to join him. You nodded a boisterous “NO”, plopping next to him on the bench.

“I’m Rafael Barba,” he extended his hand to you, which you took and shook gently, praying to God he didn’t notice you were literally shaking. You had probably had the biggest crush on him since you started working with Mrs. Calhoun, he was constantly in her office challenging her with warrants and favors.

“Oh yeah I know,” you blurted out, mentally facepalming immediately.

“I see….” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are….?”

You were about to answer when his phone went off. He answered it putting one finger up and mouthing the words “one second.”

“Barba. Yeah….what? Seriously, Olivia? On a Sunday?!” He groaned into his phone with an exaggerated eye roll. He raised his hand and ran it over his face begrudgingly as he talked.

“Yeah….alright, fine. Yeah I’ll be there, give me an hour. I’m in the Hamptons. Because it’s my day off, Liv! Do you think I lock myself in my office over the weekends like a vampire in a coffin? Yeah…I’m sorry, I just…” He glanced at you.

“I was enjoying my Sunday.” He gave you a small sad smile.

“Yeah. Ok. See you soon.” He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go back to the city. Don’t let Rita push you around too much, okay?” He chuckled, rubbing the top of your head like a puppy. You felt your face scrunch up in annoyance, seriously? He thought of you as a kid?!

He obviously noticed, and quickly held out his hand again very sternly.

“Sorry, future counselor.” He said in an overly serious tone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Again. Like an idiot.

Relieved he had fixed his faux paux, he gave you one last beautiful Barba grin as he jogged over to Rita and told her something before nodding to you once again, then walked off the boat and disappearing down the pier.

Your boss sauntered over to you, a shit eating grin across her face.

“Well Cinderella, you sure kept that cool.” She gestured for your phone beside you.

“Be sure to tell him your name this time,” she winked, handing it back to you. You glanced down at it as she walked away; she had added a number to your contacts.

“BHole Barba.” You laughed out loud. Nice. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible boss after all….

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

By Monday you still hadn’t had the balls to text Rafael Barba. You had just stared at the number in your phone, imagining all the possibilities contacting him would lead to. You may have gotten so far as planning your summer wedding in the Hamptons, but nobody needed to know that.

But you had chickened out and left it alone, and now you were sitting at your desk typing up a memo for Rita when you saw him come waltzing through the door.

“Ah, Cinderella!” He smiled at you.

“Hey…” Your mind went blank, you couldn’t think of words. Wait, had he already given you a nickname?

“Cinderella?” You blinked in confusion.

“Well I never caught your name-- But I guess I shouldn’t even push it, you’ve clearly moved on and I must seem like a creep,” His train of thought proceeded out loud as he realized you hadn’t taken his number and here he was still flirting with you. Rita had given it to you, he had seen her type it in your phone. Obviously you weren’t interested, why was he pushing this?

“What? NO!” You said a little louder than you intended, actually a lot louder than you intended. You slapped your hand over your mouth after your little outburst, but to you relief he was still smiling.

“Oh? Well I suppose that’s good…” He was obviously fishing for your excuse as to why you had waited until he popped back in your face to talk to him.

“No, I um--” You racked your brain for an excuse that wasn’t “I was busy planning our lives together”.

“I….couldn’t think of something interesting to say,” You finally admitted with a pitiful sigh. You were not a good liar, and under pressure, forget about it.

Again, he still smiled-- but this time he laughed along with it.

“I mean, ‘Hello’ is always an option,” He chuckled. “Or...your name?”

“Oh!” Idiot. You hadn’t even given him your name, how was he supposed to fall madly in love with you without a name?

“Y/N,” You stuck your hand out awkwardly, Was this a ‘shake hands’ moment? Hadn’t you already met before? You stared at your hand as you moved it slightly back and forth, arguing with yourself whether or not this was necessary. Luckily, Rafael settled the argument by taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

His hands were so soft, his long fingers enveloped yours in them. You lost yourself in the moment, and before you knew it he was making an uncomfortable cough, snapping you back to reality. You dropped his hand and snapped yours back into your body like a zip cord, your face in a horrified stare.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so weird. I’m weird. I’m--”

“Well I don’t know what you were so worried about Cinderella, you’re clearly a chatterbox,” He gave you a tongued smile, referring to the word vomit you just couldn’t help spill all over him.

“Oh yeah, I’m a total word machine,” You laughed nervously. A word machine? What the fuck was that?

“...Word machine. Right,” He nodded in amusement. “Well word machine, would you mind shooting some words to my phone, or do you just enjoy this face to face thing?”

“With that face? Definitely the latter. But you can have my number anyway,” You typed a quick message and sent it to his number. Damn that was smooth! How did you do that?

Rafael made an impressed face with your line, but when he opened his phone his brows furrowed.

“Hit?” He gave you a curious look as he read the text out loud.

“Fuck it was supposed to be ‘hi’-- stupid autocorrect,” You muttered angrily. Yeah, that was more like you.

“Oh yes, the dreaded autocorrect,” He nodded while saving your number. “Turning fucks into ducks since 2011,”

“Oh I didn’t have a phone in 7th grade but I’ll take your word for it,” You laughed, but stopped when his face twisted into a mix of horror and discomfort when he realized how young you actually were.

Dammit. Why...why would you do this?

“....Right, is Rita in?” He quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed into Rita’s office before you could answer.

“...Idiot!” You yelled at yourself as your hands went over your face and your face planted into your desk.

Well, that was nice while it lasted. All 2.5 seconds of it.

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

“Well Barba, about time,” Rita smirked as Rafael abruptly burst into her office trying to get away from you. “Done flirting with the intern are we?”

“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, though his face was a deep shade of red.

“Oh no, what happened? Did your dentures fall out in front of her?” She smirked.

“I’m younger than you!!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but I’m not the one trying to boff a 25 year old,” She smirked harder, making Rafael angrier.

“Can I just get the warrant I came here for, Rita?” He huffed.

“Oooh, struck a nerve there, did I?” Rita chuckled as she grabbed some papers from her desk and started to hand them to him. “Barba, for the record I’m really not judging you. If I were 20 years younger, I’d hit it too,”

“Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of ‘cats’ in college,” She winked.

“Wow,” Rafael held up his hands. “Rita, we really don’t need to be that personal.”

“Fine, but all I’m saying is if you like the girl, don’t let a stupid thing like age deter you. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s actually very competent and organized. I would almost prefer her not to graduate, unless she'd come work for me. She’s going to be a hell of a lawyer,” She gestured outside to your desk.

Rafael looked at the ground as he mulled over what she was saying, a small smile crawled across his lips as she complimented your potential.

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mrs. Calhoun,” He nodded as he walked towards the door with the papers in his hand, a huge smile across his face now.

He walked out to find you cursing at yourself and whimpering in embarrassment at your desk. When you heard the door shut you snapped to attention and stared at him, shocked he hadn't sprinted out of the office like Usain Bolt. Even more shocking was that Cheshire cat grin now upon his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I totally meant I was--” You tried doing math trying to make yourself reasonably older.

“It’s fine,” He chuckled as he put a hand over your counting fingers. You blushed at the touch of his skin on yours again, but quickly shoved your hands under the desk nervously as you tried not to look him square in the eye. His eyes were so gorgeous you were positive staring straight into them would actually get you pregnant.

“So does Rita ever unchain you from this desk?” He smirked as he was now very aware and very amused at how nervous he made you. He may be old, but clearly he’s still got it.

“Oh yeah, if I ask very nicely she let’s me--” You tried to think of something witty, but it wasn’t coming with him staring at you with those eyes. “....Yes,” You wanted to put your hands over your face but you didn’t want it to be a ‘thing’.

“Well, maybe if you’re an extra good girl she’ll let you off your leash early tonight,” He winked.

“....Am I a dog or a toddler in that situation?” You were genuinely asking, but Rafael clearly realized how insulting that must have seemed.

“Oh no no no, I just, shit,” He tried to backtrack but if he was being totally honest, you made him nervous. Maybe he didn’t have ‘it’ as much as he thought.

You noticed he was the one blushing now, oh my god were you making him nervous? QUICK, BE SMOOTH. BE SMOOTHER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE.

“Are you asking me out, counselor?” You did your best “sultry “voice with a bat of your eyes. Were you batting them too much? What was too much? Oh god you’ve done it for too long now. STOP BATTING.

“...I don’t know, guess you’ll have to wait for me to text you, future counselor,” He was impressed by the line, and decided to bow out before either of you made idiots of yourselves again. He gave you a wink and sauntered out of the office.

Great. Now he’ll probably make you wait two days for a--

*BEEP*

Your phone went off in your desk. You pulled it out to see a text message:

BHOLE BARBA: Dinner? Tonight?

You really needed to change his contact name. But that wasn’t the point right now. He just asked you out. Rafael Barba just asked you out. You stared at in your hands, unsure of what to do. Then you realized you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t just sit there and imagine things, this required an immediate response.

You nervously typed a reply and hit SEND:

Sire ;)

“DAMMIT!!!” You cursed your autocorrect. You instantly sent another text.

Sure***

Before you could lecture yourself again, your phone beeped again:

BHOLE BARBA: Play

Play? What did that--

BHOLE: Okay** ;)

You typed the word ‘okay’ into your text reply bubble, ‘play’ came up in the autocorrect word list.

He was joking with you. He was flirting with you. RAFAEL BARBA WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU.

This work day could not end fast enough.

[batarella]

The Prince of Gotham (Jason Todd x Reader)

absolutely love love love this one. Thank you again for the suggestions from my dearest friends in the taglist. You are all so amazingly talented. 

PRESENTING THE DAMNED PRINCE OF GOTHAM. I MEAN IS THERE EVEN A HOTTER VERSION OF JAYBIRD THAN THIS????

WORDS: 4509 WARNINGS: UNPROTECTED SEX. ORAL SEX FEMALE RECEIVING. FUCKING AGAINST THE AQUARIUM IN HIS ROOM. THE POOR FISH.

Masterlist

Call him damned, or whatever the tabloids call him as Bruce Wayne’s forgotten son, the son he almost never talks about. Jason Todd will be damned for all that was left of his second life.

The glass was cold on his lips, even colder between his fingers. The Falcones were here again. At least one of them running their mouths at another million-dollar loss. He placed the glass onto a waiter’s tray and placed his firm hands into his jacket pockets.

Miguel came over to him, whispering about a blackjack table with an unruly foreigner throwing the cards at the other players. Surprised it wasn’t of the Falcones, Jason whispered something back. And the next thing he knew, Miguel was taking the culprit into the suite.

No one has crossed him too much. Yet. And not much has happened, either. At least by now, something should have happened. Penguin’s goons. Two Face’s. A worthwhile encounter with any of the beautiful women catching his eye. But there had been nothing. Nothing worth thinking twice about.

A crime lord. In Batman’s fucking city. It’s a death wish not many can escape from, not many can succeed in. The Dark Knight will eventually find some dirt on you, but him? His son? He’ll take it as a free pass. He smiled at a photographer taking a quick photo of him, straightening his jacket. The papers have been all over him tonight, more often than the past week. Just yesterday he saw an article about how he’s now up against Dick Grayson as the most sought-after Wayne bachelor.

The nightly performance should be up soon. He was told they’d bring in a number of beautiful women who usually danced at the bars on the outskirts of Gotham, so it should be something these strip club enthusiast pigs haven’t seen so often. Jason walked over behind the booths.

“Mr. Todd!” A man came to him with a crouched back, ginger hair and freckles that covered half his face. Stretching his hand out that wasn’t holding his camera, Jason firmly shook it. “Jimmy Olsen from the Daily Planet. Is it okay if I ask a few questions?”

“Ask away.”

“Proprietorship over the Iceberg Lounge costs millions of dollars, Mr. Todd. Did you have any financial assistance from Mr. Wayne in your investments?”

He wanted to scoff.

“No. I’m all on my own.”

“Are you involved in any of Wayne Enterprises’ operations, then?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Then what other means of income did you have prior to the Iceberg?”

Blackmail. Robbery. Decapitating drug lords’ heads. Among others.

“My father taught me how to invest in the stock market with more accurate predictions than the average person.”

“You’re not so often mentioned by Mr. Wayne.”

“Well, I am the second eldest son. And there may have been a falling out at the time I was wrongfully declared legally dead. But now? I assume Bruce will have plenty of good things to say about me.”

“Mr. Wayne has not released any statement about your ownership of the Iceberg, Mr. Todd. The media has gone rampant after the Mr. Wayne’s absence in the Lounge’s opening ceremony.”

He wasn’t invited.

“I’m sure he was busy.”

“And your siblings?”

“They should be as well.”

“Last question, Mr. Todd. Will all eight of Mr. Wayne’s children have an equal share of his wealth?”

Huh. He’s never thought of that. “Perhaps. What are people saying?”

“Mr. Wayne is currently worth eighty billion dollars. That would mean you’d inherit ten billion dollars along with your other siblings.”

Shit. Maybe threatening Bruce with his identity a few days back wasn’t the brightest idea.

“Right now, I’m worth more than any of my siblings,” Jason smiled at the camera. “And if Mr. Wayne does give me an eighth of his fortune, I’d be sure to give you guys a first at an interview as the youngest new billionaire.”

Kylie Jenner can suck it.

The music started blaring out from the speakers. Burlesque music. He took another glass of champagne from a waiter and nodded at Jimmy Olsen. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Todd!” he exclaimed.

Jason’s eyes were on stage. Five women with feathers around their arms twirled, moving their legs so gracefully to the music. They only had so much clothes on. Sipping into his glass, he moved closer to the stage.

.

A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental

On your humble flat, or help you at the automat

Men grow cold as girls grow old

And we all lose our charms in the end

But square cut or pear shaped

These rocks don't lose their shape

Diamonds are a girl's best friend

.

You caught his eye more than anyone else in the damn room.

You were staring right at him, then with your soft, lace covered hands, you ran it over the side of your cheek, over your red-stained lips. You were covered in red. And the wig you had, a short blonde one, you had that Marilyn Monroe look he always had a thing for. You reminded him of Isabel, the flight attendant he once dated. But you? On stage with your legs covered in the most intricate fish nets, you were definitely something else.

You looked at him again. Perhaps you knew who he was. Your mouth so slightly parted, and the feathers grazed against your glistening lips. Jason smiled at you. You didn’t smile back. At the next move, you moved to the other side of the stage and faced away from him.

Jason then walked over to your side, standing beside a booth. You were looking at the business moguls drooling over you at their table. But then your eyes darted to him again, this time with the slightest smirk. You turned around, along with the rest of the dancers, and bent over.

Jason’s eyebrow quirked up at the sight of your ass, but he kept silent, drinking his wine. Your eyes were immediately on him the moment you stood back up. He held his glass up at you, smiling, and you ignored him once again.

Biting his lip, he watched you throw out your feather scarf over your shoulder, holding onto another dancer’s waist as you grinded onto her, so slowly with the song changing to something a bit more seductive. You then walked off the stage and continued your choreography holding your scarves over people’s necks.

You walked over to the Falcones, avoiding their grabby hands. You almost kissed the best looking one in the group, your chest so close to the tip of his nose. Rolling his eyes, Jason sipped on his glass.

But then you turned to him, your lips subtly curving up. You were making your way to him, most probably knowing he owned the place, because you walked ever so slowly to his way, cheekily winking at all the other men fawning over you.

And when you’d stood in front of him, smelling like sweet, yet strong rose petals in a garden, the tension was immense. You were absolutely gorgeous. And his eyes were all over you.

Slowly, ever so slowly, you put your face so closely to his while your delicate fingers drew a line across his shoulders, his collarbone, over the muscles on his arms. He pretended not to be so shaken, standing still with the glass between his lips.

You were enjoying yourself just as much as Jason did. But he was practically growling in hunger as you swayed your hips, momentarily pushing your ass to his crotch but not near enough to actually touch it. Jason couldn’t care less about all the other people around him. As far as he knew, you were the only one in the room.

Then you placed your scarf around his neck, your forehead so slightly brushing against his. Your breath was hot, too hot, and your body was glistening under the pale blue light. Jason licked his lips before you left to go back on stage.

Looking down at the red feathered scarf around his neck, Jason walked over backstage just before the number came to an end.

-----

“Mr. Todd!”

A large woman with a fur coat big enough to have been from an actual bear came up to him. “Did you enjoy my girls?”

“I did,” Jason said. “Where are they?”

“They’re just about to finish up at the dressing room. Would you like to meet one of them?”

“Send them all out to the casinos for the night. I’m sure all the guests would be delighted to have them around at the lounge,” Jason said. “If they want to, of course.”

“They would love to. If you can excuse me, Mr. Todd.”

Jason nodded at the woman who then walked into the dressing room. He waited outside, just by one of the slot machines.

The girls walked out of the room, now dressed in long gowns, their backs bare and the slits on their legs high up to their thighs. You no longer wore your wig, but your natural hair looked even better on you, if Jason had to say. You were the last to come out, and the seductive, shameless demeanor you once had was now replaced with a shy, silent, yet beautiful disposition. Your dress was the same color red as his Red Hood mask. He loved it.

You caught his eye, stopping your tracks, then you brought your purse up to your torso as if you were covering yourself from him.

Jason walked over to you, stretching out his hand. You looked at his arms, then at his face. You didn’t smile at him, but slowly, you held his hand for a firm shake.

But he didn’t shake it. Instead, he brought it up to his lips, delicately pressing it against the back of your hand as if you were so fragile. But you sighed at his gesture, and you couldn’t help but step closer.

“Jason Todd,” he said, still not letting go of your hand.

“Y/FN.”

Your voice was sweeter than your scent.

“You were amazing out there, Y/N.”

“I didn’t realize I was dancing for the Iceberg’s new owner, Mr. Todd.”

“Call me Jason. Please.”

So you didn’t know who he was, and still you danced for him like no one else. Interesting.

“A drink?”

You nodded. Jason motioned for a waiter to his direction and he took two glasses from the tray, handing one out to you. “Walk with me, Y/N.”

Your lips stained the glass’s rim with a faint coral. He looked away before you’d catch him staring too much at it.

“How do you find the place?”

“It’s perfect, much better than when Mr. Cobblepot owned the place.”

“So you’ve danced here before?”

“A few times. I didn’t like it as much. Who knew a handsome young bachelor such as you would turn the place so much more interesting?”

Your eyes were piercing. And every so often, as you walked past the crowd, he’d catch you looking at him longer than you should.

“Being one of Bruce Wayne’s wards has its perks.”

“You are definitely different from your siblings.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way.”

You’ve reached the dance floor, where drunken socialites had a glass on one hand while holding onto some businessman or crime lord half their height with the other. The live band was playing jazz music for now, and with the lights coming to a dim, Jason stretched out his hand for you again. “Dance with me, Ms. Y/N?”

Placing your glasses onto a waiter’s tray, you took it, and he placed his hand on your waist, yours on his shoulder. And with the other, he held your fingers with a slight brush against your thumb.

“You must do this with a whole number of women, sir.”

Sir. You didn’t say it the way you called him Mr. Todd. You said it seductively. Oh, he definitely had that kink.

“On the contrary, I don’t.”

“So the Prince of Gotham isn’t a stud after all?”

“Not at all. But women don’t hate me, that’s for sure.”

His grip on your waist tightened, and you were pulling him closer. “I sure hope you like me, Ms. Y/LN.”

“Call me Y/N, and I think I like you just fine.”

The smell of rose petals yet again. Your faces were so close, and you danced at a slower pace than everyone else in the room. “I’d like to get to know you better. You have a show tomorrow night, Y/N?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Dinner. With me at the rooftop lounge. I’ll reserve a special table with the best view.”

“Just thought you should know, I cannot be reeled in over wealth and gifts.”

“Not that kind of woman, huh?”

You smirked. “I don’t think so.”

“Is that a no?”

“If you weren’t so rich, or if you weren’t so alike to your playboy father, maybe I’d immediately say yes.”

He twirled you around so skillfully you almost squealed. “Then let me prove to you I’m no rich playboy.”

“You have the whole night.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, smirking as you looked into his eyes. You were warm, and even if you weren’t so immensely sexy, he was still so drawn to you, he’ll make sure to make the night worthwhile.

The song ended, and reluctantly, he pulled away from you, but not without a kiss to your hand once again.

“You may not be that kind of girl, but what if I take you up to my room?”

He watched your face, looking for any signs of hesitation. Even at just the slightest bit of pressure, he wouldn’t push it. But the wide smile on your face and the enthusiastic nod reassured him. “Lead the way.”

Jason held out his elbow for you to take, and you wrapped your hand around your bicep as you walked to the back of the room, to the elevators no one was supposed to go into. He heard whispers from socialites left and right, how he was taking a burlesque girl up to his room. They’ll call you cheap, for sure. But even if they had half the charm you had, he’d pick you in a crowd of hundreds in a heartbeat.

You didn’t seem to mind. You walked into the elevator, still holding onto his arm, and you walked out into a hall of glass walls and crystal statues. At the end of the hall was the door to his room. And with no one around, Jason led you inside.

You placed your purse on a console table, marveling over the immensely luxurious bedroom. The walls were still of the same crystal-like glass, blue all over the walls. There was a couch and living area to the left, and right in front was his own liquor bar, which he walked over to immediately after pulling out a seat for you to take. Behind it was a beautiful aquarium, large enough to fill up the whole wall. Walking over to it, watching the fish move around the corals and seaweed, Jason took out a bottle of champagne and poured both of you a new glass.

“You have quite the exquisite taste.”

“I’m hoping that doesn’t turn you off as much.”

Handing you a glass, you clinked it against his and sipped. “Your charm makes up for it. I take it you weren’t born with a silver spoon up your ass?”

He laughed. “No. Glad you should mention that. I grew up in the streets, in fact.”

“You and I both.”

Another lipstick stain on the rim of your glass, and your eyes still on the fish of the aquarium. He had to stop staring so much.

“Where’s your next performance?”

“I’m not so sure yet. Our manager usually tells us of our performances on the day.”

“Call me. I’d love to watch you again.”

Smiling as you walked over to the liquor bar’s stool, Jason put his arm on the bar’s surface. “Why me?”

He was flustered. “Well, other than the fact that your beauty absolutely captivates me, red happens to be my favorite color.”

“A way with words, you have, Jason Todd.”

You both placed your empty glasses on the table, and Jason started to put his face nearer to yours, leaning towards you from the other side of the bar. You were pushing your ass out, leaning towards him in turn. With a brush of his fingers against your cheek, you bit your lips.

“May I take another step at convincing you over that date?”

“Take as many measures as you want.”

You were first to lean in to his lips, and you were warm, so soft, and incredibly addicting. That rosy smell was now mixed with the faint remnants of champagne. He breathed in, walking over to your side at the table so he could roam his hands around your hair, your neck, your waist. He stopped, and you went on to kiss his neck, and he leaned over to push on the lever under your seat so you’d be elevated up to his height. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed him again and you felt his hand snake up your thigh.

“You sure those-“ you breathed. “-socialites downstairs wouldn’t mind?”

“I don’t care.” He smiled at you. Jason took off his suit jacket and you worked him off his tie. His red dress shirt was a shade lighter than your dress, and all you could think about were the thick muscles he had on under his clothes, how huge he was compared to any other man you’ve ever been with. Your hands on his face, you spread your legs so he could settle himself between them.

Shit, this was hot. Your heavy breaths, your gasps, the slight mewl when he’d bite into your neck, he lifted you up on your thighs and carried you to the other side of the liquor bar. Now sitting taller than him, he could nip at your chest easily, biting into your collarbone. Your legs were hooked around his waist and with neither of you fixing the straps of your dress falling down your shoulder, you moaned in delight when his hands squeezed onto your thighs.

With your help, he fiddled with his belt buckle and unzipped his pants, never leaving your lips while he was at it. Hiking your dress up to your waist, he groaned when your hand suddenly started to pump his length.

“You really got it all, Mr. Todd,” you winked.

“Like what you see?”

“Yes, sir.”

He swore his dick twitched.

Then he started attacking your neck, the top of your breast. He pushed your dress down so he could bite into the skin of your now exposed breasts. Of course you weren’t wearing a bra. He didn’t know what he expected. Eyes closed shut, moaning even louder, he tipped over a few glasses when he leaned his weight over you. Your legs were in the air, and you were holding onto him so you wouldn’t fall off.

Kneeling down, your fingers locked onto his hair, Jason looked up at you as he pushed you further toward the edge of the surface, your exposed ass cold against the bar. He kneaded your thighs, so skillfully well you could probably cum just as that, then the cheeky bastard started biting at the hem of your stockings.

Smiling down at him, you watched him pull them down your legs with his teeth, before he’d traced his burning hot tongue up the skin of your inner thighs. Your thongs were thin enough for him to know you’d feel his breath if he ghosted his mouth over you, so that was exactly what he did. And watching your reactions, and the way you pulled even tighter into his hair, he stood back up to pull your lips back to his.

You bit at his lip, feeling the tip of his warm cock play with your folds.

And when he’d slid inside you, your nails raked onto his back, nevermind his shirt to protect him. You weren’t so shy anymore when you suddenly tore his shirt open, the buttons flying to whatever direction to the ground. Smiling as he thrusted inside you, your nails traced the outlines of his abs. So fucking hot…

He probably heard another glass break, but he didn’t care. Jason picked you up once again, turned around, then pushed your back flat against the aquarium’s glass. The fish were frantically swimming around in panic, especially when he started pounding against you and the window shook in loud thuds. You screamed, and with a bite onto your neck, the tip of his cock hit that side of your tight walls clenching around him to hard, he wanted to break the glass.

He moaned into your ear, effortlessly keeping you up with his hands on your thighs. He thrusted into you, gaining speed the more you screamed and moaned his name. He caught your lips, bit onto them even when he didn’t want you to be quiet. This was fucking hotter than anything he’s ever experienced.

And he didn’t want this to end so quickly. Not with you. Something to captivating within you made him want to take his sweet time, enjoy your body he was lucky enough to have at the first night. He didn’t want this to be just for tonight, no. He wanted you to come back, to make you feel so good you’ll have to say yes to that date. So he lifted you up once again, his cock still lodged inside you, and he carried you into bed.

Fuck, you were so hot splayed out on his bed like that, your thighs drenched and your hair a mess. Jason took his dress shirt off, throwing it to the floor, then he helped you slide off of your dress, your thongs, your stockings, and fucking hell, you were beautiful.

Jason took off his pants, and before you could pull him in, he leaned over to the side of the bed and pressed on two buttons. One of them dimmed the lights to a sexy, seductive red glare, and the other put on some music. Some slow rap song he didn’t have the liberty of choosing, and it made you giggle. You obviously didn’t want him fiddling around with more buttons, so you pulled onto his shoulders and hooked both your legs around him.

Moaning, your hands gripping onto the sheets, Jason kissed your breasts and midriff so breathily slow that it made you a writhing mess. He leaned over to your cunt, breathing against it to make you jolt, then he lapped his tongue over you so gently your back arched high up to the air. He inserted a finger, then another, and you were screaming his name over and over, shaking each time he thrusted inside you. “Fuck,” he moaned, before lapping at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

Yes. Moan. Scream. Twitch at his touch. Just watching you would’ve been enough to get him off. The lights, the room, the music, it was all perfect. “Is that a yes on that date now?”

“If you don’t continue fucking me right now, I might never call you.”

He laughed and went back up to your lips, grinding against you so deliciously slow, his shaft grazing up your cunt, he held onto you as you jolted up. Suddenly, he flipped you over, and you squealed as he held your ass up, licking his fingers as he played with your pussy. You buried your head against the soft pillows and moaned as he slid back inside you, hands roughly gripping onto your hips.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!!!” you screamed, and with his arm holding onto your shoulders, he held you up, keeping that sexy arch of your back intact with his other hand, and with your head falling to his shoulder, he pulled you up for a kiss. Hands all over your breasts, skin so flustered and over stimulated, you felt burning. Jason bit your lip too hard when he felt your already tight pussy clench around him. Forehead against yours, he looked right into your eyes and snapped his hips into your ass, making you shriek.

“Fuck! Do that again, sir!”

Fucking hell.

He did it again. And again. And again and again.

He’s never been so intimate with a stranger, never took so much time to make them feel good. And even when he’d just met you, something didn’t want him to make this a single night of quick, meaningless sex to keep him going through the day. Something wanted him to make this more than that.

So he kissed you, long and hard. And with your limbs trembling and shaking hard enough to make you fall, he held you up, holding himself back from the immense pain and pleasure that went with you clenching so hard around him, he hissed and gave in.

He came, and you both fell to the bed, his chest pressed against your back, he sloppily kept up with his thrusts and rode out his high. He shuddered, spilling so much of his load inside you. Fuck, this was too good for him. He kissed your shoulders, your back, then your cheek. You looked amazing, and undoubtably grateful. Jason turned you around, legs around his body, and kept kissing you all throughout the night.

Fucking a stranger, sure. But making love to one? Not exactly what people would have in mind. But somehow, with you, nothing has ever felt better. Nothing felt so right.

And eventually, when the ripe beginnings of sunshine had met his window, you kissed him once again before walking back over to pick your clothes from the ground. “My phone’s over there,” you pointed to your purse. “Give me your number.”

Pinching your butt cheek, Jason took your phone. He then gave you his and you put your number with a little heart next to your name.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a night like that with someone I barely know.”

“Neither have I.”

Smiling, and with your clothes back on, you leaned over to him and kissed him, before walking out of the room. Biting the inside of his gums, he put on his clothes, walked over to the liquor bar, then turned over to face the fish.

A push on the remote he had opened the screens behind the aquarium. His hand in his pockets, he watched as the glass unfolded.

“You alright there, Cobblepot?”

“You. Fucking. Tool,” Penguin growled from behind the glass, his clothes and hair a mess. Probably from almost tearing them out from his skin in frustration.

“Shut up. At least I had the decency to shut the glass and the one way mirror. You didn’t see anything.”

The stout man looked absolutely traumatized. “And you just forgot to turn the sounds off?”

“Oh,” he sipped on his wine. “Whoops.”

  Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf @ loxbbg  reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherries shadowsndaisiesriver9noble zphilophobiazannoylinglyaries @knightfall05x​

[viking-raider]

The Immortal Sky - Part VI *Mature*

Summary: A decision is made for the next step in your and Henry’s journey, and the events that happen afterwards, will have lasting consequences for everyone involved.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 9,773

Chapters: I II III IV V

Warning: Futuristic!AU, Dystopian!AU, Language, Angst, Fluff, Dark themes, blood, torture, kidnapping, interrogation, imprisonment, mentions of past violence and sex

Inspiration: I’ve always wanted to write something like this.

Author’s Note: Tell me what you think! Thank you to @wondersofdreaming​ for being lovely, being my beta and putting up with my crazy muse! You’re amazing!

Even though you woke up in bed alone, you could hear Henry shuffling and rummaging around the room. But, you didn't open your eyes or move as you listened to him. You didn't want the magic that had culminated between you during the night to vanish, ruined by Henry forcing you to return to London with him, and starting another blow out argument.

That wouldn't end with another round of atomic sex.

When the room was quiet again, you rolled over onto your back as the sound of the toilet flushing filled the room and the sink came on. You sighed, looking out the bright window, the sun starting its slow ascent into the sky.

“You're awake.” Henry's chipper voice said as he came out of the bathroom, fully clothed. “How'd you sleep?” He asked, smiling at you.

“Better than I have in the last several days.” You replied, forcing a smile back at him.

“Same.”

He could see the conflict inside of you amplify so much more, and felt his heart grow sore. The magic was started to evaporate into the air between you.

“I don't want to rush you. But,” He sighed, carding a hand through his curls. “It's a long walk to where we're going, and only so many hours in the day.” He told you, fidgeting and chewing on the corner of his lip.

You hesitated for a moment, sighing heavily, before throwing back the duvet and getting out of bed. “I want to take a shower first, if that's okay with you? It's been a while since I had one.”

“Of course.” Henry nodded, hoping the hot water would help soothe you some.

Nodding, you took your previously discarded clothing and took them into the bathroom, softly closing the bathroom door behind you, just needing a moment of privacy. You put your clothing aside and stared at your fragmented reflection in the mirror, the tired smudges under your eyes and the just plain tired and melancholy shine to your eyes. Letting out a hard breath, you started the shower, and even though the water was still cold and heating up, you stepped underneath the icy spray, shivering once before just standing there and letting it wash over you.

Your body was so sore and worn out from walking and the ongoing situation, but you could also feel the throb between your legs from having sex with Henry; it wasn't entirely uncomfortable or painful, but it was unmistakably and noticeably there, none-the-less. The water finally heated up and you washed yourself the best you could with the meager options to do so.

“Yeah?” You called out, at Henry's soft knock.

Henry opened the bathroom door. “This is the only towel the room has.” He said, holding up the towel he had dried himself with the night before.

“Oh, thanks.” You smiled at him, turning off the shower and stepped out, taking the towel from him.

“Of course.” He smiled back at you, then actually dared to kiss you on the cheek, before going out again.

You felt a flutter of butterflies swarm your stomach at the warm touch of his soft lips on your damp cheek; it felt nice. Drying off and getting dressed, you joined Henry back in the room and found him opening his backpack, removing your shoes from inside. Smiling, he held them out for you to take, which you did, your fingers brushing as you did. The air between you and Henry was starting to get thick again, you could feel the anxiety inside of you start to grow, wanting to bolt and run for Bristol; Henry be damned. Henry was also on edge, trying to fight the feeling to grab you and throw you over his shoulder, marching you both back to London, to end this rising disaster.

But, both of you fought it.

Henry opened the room door for you and you stepped out into the hall, before going down the stairs and returning the room key to the front desk, a woman was running it this morning, the previous front desk clerk nowhere to be seen. Both of you paused at the hotel entrance, taking a deep breath and exiting into the cool morning air.

“Let me see.” Henry said, pulling out his mobile and bringing up the Runner map. “There's a supply store right over there.” He pointed across the street to a store front, the front window boarded up with plywood. “See if we can scrap up some breakfast.” He suggested, throwing you an encouraging smile.

“Okay.” You nodded, but didn't smile back.

Crossing the street and opening the supply store door, a soft chime of a bell as you did, the supplier appeared from the back, giving you and Henry a look, but didn't say anything to either of you. You roamed around the makeshift shelves lining the space, while Henry found where they stored the food and grabbed a couple of things, for breakfast and the trek. Going back outside, you and Henry found a relatively intact park bench and sat down, splitting a blueberry muffin and a bottle of water for breakfast.

Sighing, when the food was gone, you got up and turned towards London and started that way. Henry stared at you for a moment, still seated on the bench. His lips slightly parted as he watched you start in the direction of the capital city, he was thoroughly surprised by your decision to return to London with him, without him making you, or doing his best to convince you into it. It made his heart both skip a beat, that you had chosen him, but also stop, because you had chosen him over your brother.

Frowning, Henry stood up, he had already made his choice, a long time ago. So, he caught up with you as you continued to walk down the cracked and uneven sidewalk, grabbing the back of your elbow and pulling you to a stop. You turned to look up at him, your face was angry, but your bottom trembled with held back tears. Sighing softly, Henry folded you up into his arms and hugged you against him, letting you cry yourself out into his chest.

“I'm sorry.” He whispered softly, stroking your hair. “But,” He cleared his throat. “You're heading in the wrong direction.”

“I know which way I'm going, Cavill.” You replied, sniffling up at him.

“I know you know where you're going, love. But, you're not going in the direction you want to go in.” He clarified, pressing his lips to your warm forehead.

“I picked you. Mikey knows the bullshit he got himself into.” You huffed, frustrated you were even talking about it. “Made bed and lie in it, all that jazz.” You told him, rubbing at your eyes.

Henry smiled down at you, tipping your head back a little bit more and kissed you soundly on the lips, before putting his hands on your shoulders and turning you towards Bristol. “We are going this way, Nugget.”

“Henry.” You sighed, shaking your head.

“Neither of us will be able to live with the choice of just going back to London.” He replied, softly. “You won't be able to live knowing you could have prevented your brother's potential death, and I wouldn't be able to live with knowing you chose me and possibly resenting me for it, and I can't stand the thought of him getting hurt.” He explained to you.

“Stupid as he might be for becoming a Runner, in the first place.” He added, with a roll of his eyes.

“You're really going to go to Bristol with me, to get my dumbass brother?” You asked, turning back to him, and lifting a skeptical brow; sure he was just testing you.

“Yes.” He nodded, giving you a serious face.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” He retorted, lifting his own brow. “I told you, why.”

“I don't believe it.” You replied, folding your arms.

Henry narrowed his eyes at you. “You just want to hear me say, I love you.” He chuckled, seeing straight through you.

“I did.” You grinned at him.

“You silly girl.” He sighed, smirking. “Come on, we only have so much time to reach the next safe place.” He said, kissing you again, took your hand, and started walking towards Warmley.

“And, I love you.”

It had taken a while, and many things had come to light, but you and Henry finally made it to Bristol.

“So, how do we find him, now that we're here?” Henry asked, resting his hand on the small of your back protectively, as you both stood to the side of the bustling street.

“I have no clue.” You sighed, for the first time, you were starting to feel discouraged. “What do you suggest, High Marshal?” You asked, looking up at him with half a smug smile and half pleading with him.

Henry took a deep breath in as he looked around, biting his lip. He had been thinking about how you both were supposed to find your brother once you arrived, ever since he decided he would go with you to Bristol in search of him. You couldn't just start asking anyone and everyone, it would invite more attention than Henry wanted to attract, especially with people out looking to harm you.

“I might know someone.” He sighed again, rubbing the side of his tired face.

“Who?” You asked, blinking at him.

“Someone I went to school with.” He explained, taking your hand and leading you through the crowd. “He was once a Beta Marshal, until he was found to be letting Runners through his Sector, for a portion of their profits. He probably would have just been fined for it, if he hadn't attempted blackmailing an Alpha Cleric that was presiding over his case. So, he was stripped of his offices and banished to Bristol.”

“I'm just not sure if he's still here, or if he's even still alive, for that matter.” He told you, side eyeing a guy that tried to nudge him in the ribs. “It's been nearly three years.”

“Well, how are we going to find him?” You asked, pressing closer to him.

“Most people that held a high office that have been banished to Bristol hide in the lowest Sector, to try and avoid others they might have sent here themselves.”

“And you know all of this, how?”

“I'm a High Marshal, it's my job to know these things.” He replied, gripping your hand even tighter as the crowd thickened.

You thread your way through the Sectors, until you reach the unguarded and trashed gate of Sector Fifteen. Bristol had a trashy vibe to it as you walked its crowded streets, but the almost empty streets of Sector Fifteen were, by far, worse. The dark, dank and foul smelling air hung heavily in a haze, that made your eyes water and the back of your nose sting. You could feel Henry's body tense beside you, going into full protective mode, on high alert for anything out of the ordinary, for any possible and would be threat to either of you.

“Who is this guy?” You whispered to him, too frightened to speak any louder.

“Ramsey Kellan.” Henry replied, his jaw tight.

“Lost?” A raspy voice asked from behind them.

“No.” Henry growled back, turning towards the voice. “Looking for an acquaintance.”

“Oh, and who might that be?” A sleazy and rail thin man replied, looking you and Henry over.

“Ramsey Kellan.”

“What do you want with Remy?”

“That's between him and I.” Henry hissed, glaring darkly at the other male.

“I'll tell ya where to find him.” He answered, his eyes shifting over to you. “For a price.” He chuckled, showing a mouthful of black and missing teeth as he grinned at you.

“Or I could just beat it out of you.” Henry barked at him, his hand practically crushing yours.

“Hey, no need for violence, man.” The guy huffed, looking disappointed. “He lives over there.” He pointed down the street to a dingy building, over half the windows were missing from it. “Third floor.”

You expected Henry to turn and start that direction, but he didn't move, staring after the guy as he walked away. Only when he vanished from view, did Henry turn on a dime and started inside. You climbed the three flights of stairs to Ramsey Kellan's floor, looking at the name on each of the flat doors until you finally came up to the scuffed door with 'Kellan - 309' on it in black, block letters.

“Stand right there.” Henry told you, pointing to a spot beside the door. “Don't say anything or make a peep.”

“Why?” You asked, narrowing your eyes up at him.

“Because I asked you too.” He replied, heaving a sigh and looking at you, the pinnacle of his exhaustion showing through his blue eyes.

“Fine.” You sighed back and did as he asked.

Taking one more deep breath, Henry lifted his fist and knocked on Kellan's door. It took a moment before the door jerked open and a thin male appeared. He looked at Henry for a moment, his expression angry, before it widened with shock and horror.

“Cavill?”

“Kellan.” Henry replied, looking the former Beta Marshal over.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ramsey asked, blinking at his former colleague.

“Looking for you.” Henry answered, folding his arms over his chest.

“Don't tell me the straight laced Henry Cavill has fallen from grace?” Ramsey laughed, thoroughly amused at the thought of it.

“Not exactly.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “I need your help finding someone here in Bristol.”

Ramsey's look hardened some and he shifted uneasily. “Who?”

“A Runner for Jaxon Quinn, Michail Keagan.”

Ramsey gulped thickly, his eyes shifting around, unable to meet Henry's stern glare. “I can't help you, Henry.” He mumbled and started to close his door.

Henry's hand shot out, preventing Ramsey from closing his door. “I know that's a load of shit. You've had the low down on every Runner there is, and I know you still do. So, you're going to tell me where to find him.”

“And what do I get out of it?” Ramsey hissed back. “Last time, I lost my job and my livelihood. This time around, I’d lose my life. So, what can you give me, Cavill, in exchange for the information.”

“Maybe, I tell the Marshal Council you helped me bring down one of the top Crime Bosses England has. Perhaps with a word like that, from a High Marshal with ties to the Cleric and Royal Councils, it could get you back into London.” Henry told him, keeping his voice low, but stern.

“You think you could do that?” Ramsey asked, sounding desperate and surprised.

“Only if you tell me what I want to know.” Henry told him, narrowing his eyes. “And if you lie to me, I'll make sure Crime Bosses and Bristol are your last worry.” He added, the dangerous threat dripping from his voice.

You heard the gulp and whimper that came out of Ramsey, you saw the sheer look of evil on Henry's face as he said it, and had to slap a hand over your mouth to hide your giggle, biting your lips. You were terrified and surprised by the pure authority Henry had pulsing off of him, even more so than usual, but part of you was also turned on by it.

“Come in, I don't want the neighbors to hear this.” Ramsey said, opening the door again.

Henry turned his head, looking at you, then motioned to the open door. Nodding at him, you pushed off the wall and stepped in front of him, giving Ramsey a tight smile as he blinked at you, surprised.

“Who the hell is this?” He snapped, looking over your head to Henry.

“None of your business, so move.” He barked back, pushing Ramsey out of the way.

You shyly smiled at Ramsey as you slipped by him, after Henry, who breezed into Ramsey's flat, looking around it with unmasked disgust. He turned in the middle of Ramsey's living room, tightly folding his arms against his chest, glowering at the former Beta Marshal, with screaming High Marshal authority. You felt sheepish as Ramsey closed his flat door and turned towards Henry, standing between them, in what could easily be no man's land.

“What do you want, High Marshal Cavill?” Ramsey asked, with smug mockery.

“I want you to tell me where I can find Michail Keagan.” Henry replied, the crease between his brows deepening. “He's an Adjutant Runner for Jaxon Quinn, here in Bristol.”

“You can't just waltz into a city like Bristol, and start demanding people tell you where top Runners are at, Cavill.”

“That's why I came to you, Kellan. You're already doing the waltz, so tell me where he is.”

“And if I don't?” Ramsey asked, narrowing eyes at Henry and rolling his shoulders.

Henry's arms dropped to his sides and he took three giant steps towards him, suddenly reaching out and nabbing Ramsey by the shirt, then slamming him against the nearest wall. Ramsey grunted, all the air left lungs as his back connected to the concrete wall. He was dazed for a second, black and flashing spots in his blood shot eyes, blinking rapidly to clear them away, and trying to focus on the rage he felt coming off of Henry.

“I'll beat your face in.” Henry hissed, his teeth gritted and blue eyes smoldering.

Your mouth dropped open, blinking at the rage Henry was exuding as he pinned Ramsey to the wall. It was no wonder that the blue of a flame burned the hottest. But, you were worried that Henry might actually harm Ramsey, and as much as you wanted to find your brother, you didn't want anyone getting hurt for it.

“All right, all right!” Ramsey squeaked and slumped against the wall, practically shrinking before Henry. “I'll find him for ya.” He gulped, frightened and shaking.

“Good.” Henry replied, his voice low, and moved away from him, still tense.

Chewing on his lip for a moment, before slowly sliding along the wall towards his coffee table, where his laptop was sitting, Ramsey flipped it open and sat down on the couch, he typed quickly, his fingertips clacking on the black keys as he squinted at the screen. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure everyone in the building could hear it, while you watched him work. Henry stood in place, eyes burning into Ramsey, like it would make him work faster, as seconds felt like minutes and minutes felt like hours.

“It looks like this Runner is living in Sector Three, while he's being trained to be an Adjutant Runner.” Ramsey finally said, rubbing at his face. “With his handler, Knox Monroe. Who is a very hardcore Runner. I really wouldn't go messing about with him.”

“Why?” You dared to ask, eyes darting to Henry.

“Knox has brought in more revenue than any Runner, for the last five years running.” Ramsey replied, looking up from his laptop screen. “He was caught, once, and the Hernandez family bailed him out.” He looked up at Henry. “You know how serious they have to be about him, if they're willing to keep him in such an elevated state, instead of tossing him out of Bristol on his ass.”

“I do.” Henry nodded, his expression and body language never changed, but there was a small twinge in his stomach. “Where in Sector Three are they at?” He asked, without hesitation.

“Are you--” He started to protest, but stopped, seeing Henry's face, and took a deep breath. “Sector Three, block twelve, there's a pub there, the Black Bone. Knox frequents it often enough and I'm sure, with how close a handler is to their Runner, he'll bring this Keagan with him. All you have to do is use your special High Marshal skills and stake the place out, until they show up.”

Henry shrugged his shoulders and rolled his neck, processing all the information that Ramsey had given the two of you. “I hope you're not lying, Ramsey.” He sighed, settling a tired eye on him.

“I'm not, Henry.” Ramsey sighed, rolling his eyes at him. “Especially, if you can get me out of this hell hole.”

“We'll see.” Henry huffed at him, turning back towards the door. “Come on.” He said to you, opening the door and letting you step out into the hall first.

The man you and Henry encountered walked around the corner of a building, moving out of your sight, but peeked around the corner, watching you and Henry enter the apartment building he directed you too. Narrowing his eyes at the building, he quickly turned away and hurriedly walked through the streets of Sector Fifteen. Rudely bumping into people to get them out of his way, before he finally reached the nearly pristine gate to Sector Fourteen, flashing his pass ID at the guards and breezed through as they opened the gate for him.

Swinging around a corner and kicking open the door of a bar, he sallied up to the bar, slapping his palms to the sticky and worn counter.

“Gideon, where's Aries?” He asked and leaned over the counter, reaching beneath it and grabbed the neck of a bottle that was there. “I need to talk to him.” He added, sitting back and spinning off the cap of the whiskey bottle.

“He's upstairs, where he always is, you dumb-fuck.” Gideon, the bartender, barked back at him, yanking the bottle out of his hand as he started to chug it down. “So, get fucking lost.” He barked, wiping the head of the bottle off with the hem of his shirt and secured the cap back on, storing it in its previous place.

He smiled up in Gideon's face, winked at him, then shoved away from the bar, twirling on his heels towards the back of the bar. Yanking open a hidden door in the wall, stomped his way up the stairs and pounded on the closed door at the top. After several minutes of relentless pounding, the door swung open to a burly male.

“Fuck you want, Atlas.” He hissed at him, his lip curled with distaste.

“I need to see Aries.” The man, Atlas, said, licking his lips and looking back at him. “It's important.”

“Get lost, Atlas.” He huffed and started closing the door.

“Who is it, Danny?” A voice in the room behind him called out.

“It's me, Aries!” Atlas yelled back, grinning smugly at Danny. “I have some information you might want!” He added, pressing through the door.

“Let him in.” Aries sighed, slumping back in his high backed chair. “What is it, Atlas?” He groaned, watching Atlas sashay into the room, picking through the various bottles strewn across the long, black table, until he found one that was reasonably full.

“There was a guy and a chick, in Sector Fifteen.” He said, taking several deep gulps of the clear liquid. “Huge fucker too, and she was a teeny thing. Cute..”

“What's the point, Atlas?” Aries huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don't have all night.”

“Well, it was the girl, you see.” Atlas replied, leaning against the edge of the table. “She looked familiar, and I don't mean, seen her in the whore house, familiar either.”

“I care why?”

“Because, she looked like that girl you got a memo on from the higher ups.” Atlas answered, grinning at Aries with smug confidence.

Aries's hand dropped from his face and looked across at Atlas, studying him. “Danny, hand me that memo tablet.” He said, holding his hand out to him, without taking his eyes off of Atlas.

Danny left the room for a quick moment and returned carrying the black, sleek tablet and carefully rested it in Aries's hand. Aries closed his hand around it and the screen came to life, he messed with it for a few minutes, before sliding it across the table to Atlas.

“Her?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“Looks like her.” Atlas nodded, bending over the tablet.

Aries snapped out of his chair and strode across the room, yanking on a jacket. “Where did you see them?”

“Sector Fifteen, they were looking for Kellan.” Atlas explained, twisting around to follow him as he moved around the room.

“Fucking Ramsey.” Aries huffed, angrily. “Get him out.” He barked at Danny and pointed at Atlas as he made for the door.

Aries stormed down the stairs, shoving open the hidden door and scaring the new patrons that had come in after Atlas had gone up. He paid them no mind as he stormed out of the bar and towards Sector Fifteen, hoping to get to Kellan's flat before you and Henry left. But, he knew by the time he did get there, that you both were long gone. He still went up to have a visit with Ramsey though, wanting information.

“Aries!” Ramsey squeaked opening the door and found him there. “How's it going, man? It's been a--”

“Cut the shit, Kellan. Tell me where she is.” Aries hissed, cutting to the chase.

“Who?” Ramsey frowned at him, genuinely confused.

“The girl that was seen here today, with another fellow.” Aries explained to him, his eyes darkening.

Ramsey blinked at Aries a couple of times, his brain struggling to compute what Aries was saying. Who was the girl with Henry? He thought, his chest tightening. He refused to tell him who she was, and he seemed seriously protective of her. She must be someone of importance if Cavill was so protective of her, if Aries was so interested in her.

“I don't know who she is, Aries. Honestly.” He mumbled, running a hand down his face. “She came with a former colleague of mine.”

“And who might that be?”

“Henry Cavill.” Ramsey blurted out, obediently. “He's a High Marshal for the City of London.” He explained to him. “He came to me, with her, looking for a Runner. A Runner called Michail Keagan. He works for Quinn and is being trained by Knox. In Sector Three.”

“There's an active High Marshal in Bristol, looking for a Runner?” Aries asked, looking thunderstruck at the notion.

“Yes, Sir.” Ramsey nodded, gulping and fidgeting in place.

“Hernandez is going to lose his fucking mind.” Aries replied, raking a hand through his hair and turning on his feet. “I have to warn him.” He said to himself, already planning on going straight to Sector One to warn Hernandez about it, and you being in the city.

Within their grasp.

“Mr. Hernandez, Aries Novak to see you.”

Benji Hernandez looked up as he hunched over his desk, arms braced against the dark cherry wood. Rubbing at his tired face, he pushed off the desk and waved his hand for Aries to enter, rounding his desk to drop into his high-back leather chair.

“You can leave, Johnny.” He dismissed his assistant, then motioned to a chair before his desk. “Sit, Aries.”

“Yes, Sir.” Aries nodded, obediently and quickly taking the offered seat. “I have some very important information for you, Mr. Hernandez. I'm sure it'll make your day a sight better.” He rushed out, a bubble of excited and nervousness energy.

“What is it, Mr. Novak?” Benji sighed, lifting a brow at the other man.

“That girl you've been looking for,” Aries grinned, making the Devil look like a sweetheart. “She's here. In Bristol, of all places, and with a London High Marshal!”

Benji blinked at Aries a couple of times. “That little bitch is here, in my city!” He growled, his shoulders tensing.

“Yes, sir. She very much is.” Aries nodded, smiling even more. “One of my men saw her and the High Marshal at a former Beta Marshal's flat not three hours ago, in Sector Fifteen.”

“Where are they now?” Benji hissed, leaning forward, hand reaching for his phone.

“Kellan said, he gave them directions to the Black Bone pub in Sector Three. They're looking for Knox and his new Runner, Keagan.”

“Why are they looking for the two of them?” Benji asked, narrowing his eyes at Aries.

“He doesn't know, neither of them told him the reason behind it, just to tell them where they could be found.” He explained, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs, being near Benji had always given him the shakes, mostly because he knew what he was capable of.

Benji picked up the black receiver of his phone and pressed it to his ear with his shoulder, punching the glossy numbers with the tip of his index finger. “Ashe, I want you in my office. Now.” He barked into it, then slammed it back down into the cradle. “Aries, get out.” He huffed, jerking his head towards the door as he got up out of his chair and strode across the room to a table of decanters and glasses.

“Do-don't you wa--” Aries started to stammer.

“I don't want anything out of you other than what you've already given me, Mr. Novak.” Benji answered, cutting him off, as he poured himself a drink. “Unless, you're withholding something more?” He asked, turning back to Aries as he brought the full glass to his lips.

“No-no, sir!” Aries yelped, the blood draining from his face.

“Then, get the fuck out.” Benji huffed, rolling his eyes and downing the rest of the strong brown liquid.

Nodding his head, like a broken bobble-head, Aries pulled the door open as a man on the other side raised his hand to knock. The two men gulped and nodded at each other, then traded places.

“Ashe!” Benji called out, sounding a bit happier to see him than he had been to see Aries. “Come in and close the door.”

Ashe gave Aries with a short nod and closed the door on him. “How can I be of help, Mr. Hernandez?” He asked and folded his arms behind his back, giving Benji his full and undivided attention.

“There's someone of great importance in my city and someone else that can cause some other issues with her. I want you to go down to the Black Bone pub in Sector Three. I don't want you to grab them as soon as you see them. Watch them, then when they leave, grab them and bring them back here to hold.”

“Of course.” Ashe nodded. “Who would that be, sir?”

Benji crossed back to his desk and removed a tablet from his drawer, turning it on and flipping through it for a moment, before holding it out to Ashe. “That's her. She was in Twist's warehouse in London, waiting to be sold, when someone came in to look at Twist's collection, picked her out of the line-up and purchased her.” He explained to Ashe. “Not five minutes after purchasing her, Twist's warehouse was raided by the Marshal Council.”

“Come to find out, the guy who purchased her was working for the Council. Ordinarily, that wouldn't be an issue, but being that she was purchased during a Council Raid, she's a witness and can fuck my family's entire operation in London. So, I had a hit put out on her, if she's dead, she can't testify. Which would make the consequences of the trial less disastrous.”

“So, you want me to kill them?” Ashe asked, studying your face on the tablet's screen.

“No, I want you to bring them back here and put them in holding.” Benji replied, leaning back against the edge of his desk. “I want to find out what I can from them. See, if they know anything about the trial Twist and his men are being sent too. We might be able to cut out a few more people from the jury and not take such a massive hit to our operations.”

Ashe nodded and handed the tablet back to his boss. “I'll get on it right away, Sir.”

“Good.” Benji smiled, pleased.

“Eat.” Henry said, setting a plate of food in front of you.

“Why?” You frowned at him.

“Because, you look suspicious and it's hard to look suspicious when you're eating something.” He told you, handing you a fork and knife. “We don't need any attention to be drawn to us, while we wait for Knox and your brother to show up. So, eat your food and leave the room watching to me.”

“You're the boss.” You chuckled, nudging his knee with yours.

You and Henry had entered the Black Bone pub twenty minutes before, ordering food and drinks, while Henry put his vast experience of surveillance and undercover work to use, taking regular bites of food and sips of water as he pretended to stare at the flickering tv screen mounted above the bar top, showing some sporting event that took place in Bristol. While his actual attention, from his peripheral vision, was on the single entrance and exit the pub had. No one had come in or gone out since the pair of you entered the half packed establishment. You had already done a quick sweep of the patrons that dotted the place, none of them were your brother or looked like the picture of Knox that Ramsey had shown you just before you left his flat, in Sector Fifteen.

“There's enough grease in this to oil a car.” You commented, pushing the food on your plate around with your fork.

Henry's face broke out into a massive grin, his shoulders shaking as he laughed at your comment. “We already know you purr like an engine.” He teased back, making reference to the sound you had made the night before, as he pleasured you.

“Oh, dear god.” You giggled, your face hot with embarrassment. “Henry.” You grinned at him, shyly.

“It's the truth, and you know it, Nugget.” He chuckled back at you, his shoulder gently brushing yours as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“You wag that tail, like you're a Puppy.” You teased him back, rolling your eyes at him.

Henry had opened his mouth to make a comment to that, when the bell above the door rang and the door opened. His mouth snapped shut and his body language changed from that playful relaxation, to suspicious and high alert tension. His blue eyes darted to the new patron as they stepped into the pub, a male, about Henry's own height, but slimmer, though by no means less built. There was an air about him, that Henry felt on the other side of the room, a professional air, but that could be a by-product of the life he lived before being marooned in Bristol. But, Henry wasn't completely sure of that, and cast his eyes back to the tv, as the man scanned the room.

“Don't look over there.” Henry hissed as you started to turn your head towards the door.

“Sorry.” You mumbled and took another sip of your water. “But, you don't like him.” You pointed out, feeling how rock hard the muscles of his side were against yours.

“I don't let anyone in here.” Henry replied, forcefully relaxing himself. “Other than you.” He added, the corner of his lip twitching up into a soft smile.

“Well, as long as that's true.” You chuckled, resting your hand on his thigh.

Henry rested his hand on top of yours and gave you a sweet smile, squeezing it gently. “Since I met you.” He whispered, softly.

“Aw.” You cooed at him, turning your hand into his.

Squeezing your hand again, Henry turned his eyes back to the tv, watching the new patron move from the door to the bar, motioning to the bartender and ordering something to drink. The longer the man was there, the colder the feeling running up and down Henry's spine got, making him shiver with worsening paranoia.

“Are you done with your food?” He asked, looking at your plate.

“Yeah, I'm done.” You nodded, pushing it away from you.

“All right, we're going.” He said, standing up.

“But,” You started to protest, but the look on Henry's face said it all.

Nodding, you got up and followed him out of the pub, trying to keep up with his long strides as he hurried down the street, before taking a sharp turn into an alleyway. You frowned at him as he stopped at a brick wall.

“Come here.” He motioned you closer with his fingers. “Take this.” He pulled a plastic room key out of his back pocket and slipped it into your front pocket.

You frowned up at him, shaking your head. “What are you doing?” You asked, getting an anxious feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Meet me back at our room.” He told you, lacing his fingers together. “If I'm not back in an hour, do not come looking for me. Stay in the room, don't answer the door, unless you are sure it's me.” He instructed you, quickly.

“Henry?”

“Give me your foot.” He rushed you.

“Henry?”

“We don't have time, so give me your foot.” He barked at you, gritting his teeth as he tried to hold his temper.

Gulping, you placed your foot into his cupped hands and he boosted you up, to straddle the top of the brick wall. “Henry?” You panted, your anxiety turning into panic, realizing he wasn't going to follow after you.

“You'll be fine, just do what I told you to do.” He answered, taking a calming breath and squeezing your ankle, trying to reassure and calm you, as he looked back to the entrance of the alleyway and saw the guy from the pub appear.

“Go now, I'll be right behind you.”

“And if you're not?” You gulped, hands shaking.

“I will be. Now, go.” He told you. “I love you.” He whispered, softly.

You glanced up at the approaching man as he started towards you and didn't look all that happy. “I love you too.” You whimpered back, then disappeared on the other side of the wall.

“Good girl.” Henry sighed to himself, turning to face the guy, his quick footsteps echoing off the brick and metal surrounding the alleyway as he rushed Henry.

Henry had enough time to tense up his body, before Ashe bull rushed him, sending them both into the brick wall Henry had just sent you over. Grunting as his back connected to the bricks, knocking some of the air out of his lungs, Henry slid his body to the left as Ashe's fist came out and breezed by his head, crashing knuckles first into the grimy bricks behind him. Ashe howled and growled, drawing back his scrapped and throbbing hand, ugly black and purple bruises already forming on the swollen and bloody digits. Taking his distraction, Henry jabbed his own fist hard into Ashe's unprotected side, feeling his ribs crack under the force of his blow, and making Ashe double over, then drove his knee into Ashe's gut.

“I do mean to ruin your day.” Henry laughed, grabbing a handful of Ashe's blond hair and forcing his head back. “But, you're not going to get your filthy hands on her.”

“I'm afraid to disappoint you, but we will get that wee bitch.” Ashe panted, hand reaching into his back pocket and yanked something out of it, pressed it to the side of Henry's thick thigh and pressed a button on the side.

Henry's entire body became rigid and trembled, his eyes losing focus and twitching as several hundred volts of electricity coursed through him. Clicking the stun stick off and watching Henry slump against the wall and slide to the ground, Ashe stood up, flipping the stick in his hand, then pocketing it again, before removing his mobile from his front pocket.

“Hey, Sully. It's Ashe.” He chuckled, squatting down in front of an incapacitated Henry. “I didn't get the girl, but I did get the High Marshal, and I'm sure after a 'talking to' he'll fork over where to find her.” He explained to his handler, giving Henry a gloating pat on the cheek.

“I know he's not ideal, but he's a fucking High Marshal, think of the shit he knows, other than where the girl is? Benji won't be that pissed off about it, we'll get her once we've talked the good Marshal into telling us.” He laughed, poking Henry in the chest.

“Sweet! Send the boys over. He's a beast.”

A few minutes later, a group of guys arrived in the alleyway with Henry and Ashe, flanking Henry, who was still out for the count, and hauled him out of the alleyway and into a van, before speeding out of the Sector, back to Sector Three, where Benji and his team waited to interrogate him on where you were now hiding.

Your lungs were burning, by the time you ran back to the room you and Henry had rented in the Sector when you arrived. You hoped with all you had that Henry would be there waiting for you to open the door with some witty remark on how long it took you to get back, with your nugget sized legs. But, he wasn't and your already throbbing heart felt like it had been sent through a paper shredder. You let yourself into the room, locking it behind you and paced the room, a million worst and best case scenarios running through your head on why he wasn't back yet.

“Come on, Henry.” You gasped, chewing your lip to bits and wringing your hands. “Please, knock on the door.” You begged, staring at the room door. “Please, please, please.” You whimpered.

But, the knock never came. Not an hour later, or even three hours later.

You considered going back out to look for him and half opened the door to do so, before shaking your head and closing it again, knowing Henry would be pissed if he found you weren't there when he got back, or if you ran into each other on the street. So, you stayed locked in the room, restlessly pacing or staring out the window, hoping to see him approaching the building from the sidewalk five stories below.

“He's fine.” You mumbled to yourself, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “He's just toying with me. He's just standing in the hall, waiting for me to bolt out of the room, so he has something to tease me about. Claim I'm not good at listening.” You tried convincing yourself, hugging his shirt to your chest.

“The jerk, he can wait out there all night, for what I care!” You yelled, hoping he heard you.

A stinging slap rang out in the air and Henry's scruffy cheek burned, like it had been singed by molten lava. Henry grunted as another burning slap connected with his other cheek, snapping his head painfully to the side.

“Wakey Wakey, Mr. Cavill.” An overly jolly voice cooed inches from his face. “Nap time is over.” The jolly voice turned sinister. “I think our sleeping beauty needs a little more help walking up, Emilio.”

“Doable, Boss.” A deep voice laughed.

Henry's eyes flew open and doubled over with a weak gasp as an iron blow struck the center of his chest, and the audible creaking of his ribs. He whimpered and moaned, a thick string of drool dripped from his lips. He leaned forward in the metal chair he was tied to, his arms bound by the wrists around the back of the chair and his ankles tied to the front legs, that like the back legs, were heavily bolted to the cement floor.

“Good morning, Henry.” Benji smiled at him.

“Ho-how--” He panted, trying to get air back into his screaming lungs. “How do you kn-now my n-name?” He gulped the thick saliva in his mouth down, his throat sore.

“I know to you, Mr. Cavill, Bristol is just a back water, shit-hole. But, we do have a great deal of the same technology you Londoners do. So, fingerprint identification isn't a foreign concept to us.” Benji sighed, shaking his head as he walked around Henry.

“Where am I?” Henry gasped, sitting back and flexing his arms, testing the strength of his bonds, only to get a stiff punch to the face.

“Easy, Emilio.” Benji called, patting Emilio on the shoulder. “We don't want to tire Mr. Cavill, before he can be so nice as to answer our questions.”

“I'm not telling you shit, Hernandez.” He growled, jerking his body in agitation.

“Oh, how intuitive of you to deduce who I am.” Benji laughed, stopping in front of Henry. “You must be a top notch High Marshal in London.” He smirked, taking a seat in a chair several feet in front of Henry. “Well, I know you are, I've read your files and your work history. You have quite the prowess for undercover work, used to be SWAT as well, before transferring to Homicide.” He said, reaching back for the tablet one of his men was holding, taking it from him.

“What was it that you transferred, Mr. Cavill?” He asked, scrolling through files that should have been private and sealed.

“Get fucked.” Henry barked at him, his broad shoulders straining.

Benji chuckled, then cleared his throat. “Says here, while on a raid in London's Sector Thirty, there was a shoot out in a warehouse and you were injured, almost died as a result.” He rested the tablet on the thigh of his crossed leg.

“I'm not telling you where she is.” Henry said softly, staring Benji straight in the eyes. “So, you can save your breath.”

“Oh, it's not my breath you'd want to save, Henry.” Benji said, lowering his voice and resting forward. “It's yours.” He grinned, his brown eyes lighting up. “I wonder, if that wound still gives you trouble?” He inquired, drumming his fingertips on the back of the tablet.

Henry didn't say anything or move, just stared Benji in the eye, his lips sealed. The Crime Boss could do whatever he liked to him, he wasn't going to tell him where you were, even if it ended up killing him. No matter how much pain they caused him for it. Henry would protect you with his body and his life.

“Do what you will.” He told Benji, resolved and at peace.

Benji's eyes darkened, realizing that he wasn't going to be able to 'sweet talk' or coax Henry into volunteering the information about your whereabouts. He knew it wasn't going to work, but had given it a shot anyway, hoping Henry would be intelligent and want to save his own life and a good amount of pain.

“All well.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders at Henry. “Where was that wound?” He hummed, turning back to the tablet. “Abdomen, left side. Through and through—oh! It took out one of your kidneys! Well, it's a good damn thing you're a High Marshal with a father in the Cleric Council and a mother in the Royal Council! All that money, power and influence, so you could get the best organ transplant care.” He said, shaking his head and enlarging a photo taken of Henry, not long after he had surgery to treat his injuries.

“What was it?” He asked, looking up at Henry. “Organ donor? Organ regrowth or an Organ replacement?”

“What's the difference?” One of Benji's men blurted out, without meaning too.

“Well, you see.” Benji laughed, in an uncommonly good mood. “An Organ donor is when some nice and caring person donates their kidney to the recipient. Organ regrowth is when a large team of doctors and scientists grow a new kidney for the person that needs it, and organ replacement, is a device, made out of hardware and biological software to look and function like the required organ or body part. Think of it as the kidney equivalent to a prosthetic leg.”

“All of which are insanely expensive.” He added, then looked back at Henry. “So?”

“You obviously have access to all my medical reports, so why bother.” Henry hissed at him, unamused.

“Because, I want to have a conversation with you, Mr. Cavill. So, satisfy my curiosity.”

Henry licked his lips, his upper lip twitching as his anger slowly built in the pit of his stomach. “Replacement.” He growled out, his hands squeezing into fists, cutting off most of their circulation.

“So, a special, bionic kidney for the special High Marshal.” Benji sat up straighter, his eyes and face bright with wonder and interest. “I want to see it!”

“Sir?” Ashe gasped, head snapping towards Benji.

“I don't mean cut him open, you idiot!” Benji barked, the sparkle of his face dimming with his flare of annoyance. “The scar, you brain-dead buffoon.” He yelled, throwing the tablet at Ashe. “Cut his shirt off!” He snapped at Emilio.

Grinning, Emilio grabbed a box cutter off a metal table covered with various items and approached Henry. Sliding up the razor-blade, Emilio grabbed the bottom hem of Henry's grey short sleeve t-shirt and slid the paper thin blade up, cutting through the thin fabric. Henry winced, hissing and bared his teeth as the tip of the blade nicked the skin of his sternum, a thick bead of bright red blood dripped down his chest, disappearing into the patch of hair of his belly; the elastic band of his boxer briefs soaking it up.

Emilio tore away the rest of Henry's shirt and discarded it, as Benji stood and closed the gap between them, seeing the neat and thin scar above his left hip, a slightly puckered dot of scar tissue in the center of it, where the bullet entered. Pressing his lips together, Benji rounded Henry's chair and made him sit forward, straining his arms and saw the thick scar on his back, from the surgery to remove his damaged kidney and replace it with the engineered one.

“Fascinating.” He cooed, touching his cool fingertips to the burning hot skin of Henry's back. “I wonder?” He hummed, then promptly sucker punched Henry in the back, landing it squarely on the scar.

Henry howled in agony, arching his back away from Benji, the cut on his chest bleeding more as the skin of his sternum stretched. His breathing was ragged as Emilio jabbed his fist into Henry's stomach, almost choking on the air stuck in his throat, eyes watering furiously.

“So, it does hurt.” Benji laughed, pressing his fingers into the forming bruise and moved back around to see his anguished face.

“Let me punch you in the fucking kidney, and tell me how it feels, you piece of shit.” Henry barked, spitting at him.

Emilio clocked Henry across the face, opening a gash on his cheekbone and snapping his head sideways, making his neck ache and throb. “Spit at him again, and I'll cut your fucking tongue out.” He growled, grabbing a handful of Henry's sweat soaked curls and yanked his head back, making his scalp burn.

“Where is she, Henry?” Benji asked, pulling out a handkerchief and wiped the wad of spit off the tip of his shoe, before tossing the square piece of fabric into the bin. “This will go so much easier, if you just tell us where she is.”

“I'm not going to tell you, so you can do whatever you want with me.” Henry wheezed, glaring up at Benji. “Torture me. Kill me. I don't care. I'll never tell you anything.”

“Are you sure you want to play this game, Henry?” Benji asked, stroking his jaw as he regarded him.

Henry's body went slack and slumped in the chair, mentally centering himself for the pain and chaos that was no doubt about to rain down upon him. All so he could keep you protected, and god he hoped you were. Henry prayed that you had listened to him and went back to the hotel room, baring yourself inside until, and if, he was able to get back to you. He feared that Ashe had more people with him that saw you go over that wall and followed after you, tracking you back to the room, if you even made it that far, and were somewhere in the building he was clearly in, being tortured as well. His Adam's apple bounced as he swallowed down that overwhelming fear. He couldn't let that negativity breed inside of him or it would tear him down and he would lose to Benji and his torture even faster.

“I'm not telling you, where she is, or even where she might be.” He replied, finally. “For all I know, she's nowhere I'm aware of. She's an extremely self-willed girl, and doesn't listen. So, even if I were to tell you where I think she is. She couldn't be. She could be anywhere at this point.” He told him, almost smugly.

“Bristol is a big place.” He added, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Emilio got a running start and the punch he landed square to the center of Henry's face, busting his nose and blackening his eye. Henry coughed and spit a mouthful of blood to the floor, his chin resting against his bare and bloody chest.

“Why are you and she in Bristol?” Benji asked, lifting a brow at him.

“To fuck your mother.” Henry replied, spitting blood at him, but came up short.

Picking up a long object from the table, Emilio swung it into Henry's stomach, and if the chair hadn't been bolted to the floor, it and Henry would have been sent flying backwards with the force. Henry wavered forward, slack and groaning in pain, shaking his throbbing head to try and clear it.

“I'll ask you again, why are you here?”

“Again, to fuck your mother.” Henry rasped, clearing his throat and licking his lips, tasting the cooper of his own blood.

Benji looked up at Emilio and nodded.

Grinning, Emilio dropped the pipe on the table with a clatter and retrieved his box cutter, his preferred method of extracting information from difficult people. The smallest shutter went down Henry's spine as he approached him, pressing the sharp tip to his jean-clad thigh. Henry growled deep in his throat, gritting his teeth and flexing his arms as Emilio slowly pushed it into his leg; breathing heavily and teeth tearing into his bottom lip, blood dripping down his chin.

“We can do this for a very long time, Mr. Cavill.” Benji said, crossing one leg over the other and tilting his head as he watched the blade of the box cutter disappear into Henry's meaty thigh. “Even after we find her. But, I find it curious that a High Marshal would go to such lengths to protect a Slave he bought, even if it was part of a sting operation.”

Henry blinked at Benji, the searing pain of the blade cutting through skin and muscle momentarily forgotten.

“Oh, yes. I know it was you that bought her from Twist. That you were the one that was undercover at the warehouse. It's all in the paperwork.” He explained, motioning to the shattered tablet laying on the ground. “The report your superior typed up after the fact, your own reports while undercover and afterwards. A high bred, high standing Londoner, with a life and connections anyone and everyone would die for, protecting some Slummer that was just part of the job.”

“Why are you protecting her?”

“Like you said,” Henry answered through clenched teeth. “It's my job. I'm supposed to protect her until she testifies.”

“Nothing more?” Benji poked.

“Nothing.” Henry seethed, his dull fingernails cutting into the skin of his palms.

He wasn't going to show or give away that he loved you, that would only cause more issues and add to the endless list of things Benji and his men could use against him, to torture and torment him into give you up. No, he buried those emotions and thoughts so deep inside of himself, it was as if they never existed to start with, building an iron-clad fortress around them and you.

“She means nothing to me, other than getting her to testify against you, then send her back to the hell hole she was born to and I can get my life back.”

“Well, if you tell me where she is, I can let you go.” Benji replied, regarding Henry. “I'll even have one of the boys drive you back to London, safe and sound, and you can go back to your job as a High Marshal.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Henry laughed at him. “My job is to stop you, and you'd let me freely continue to do so?”

“Yes.” He nodded, pressing his lips together. “All the Councils of London have been hindering my family's business for decades, and we're still sitting fat, happy and rich here in Bristol. So, one little High Marshal, like yourself, won't even be a thorn in my side. What do you say, Henry? Give us the girl and we'll have you home by morning?”

Henry leaned forward, never breaking eye contact with him. “No.” He said, softly, but with clear malice.

[im-totally-not-an-alien]

Final Fantasy 7 prompts # 73

1. Puppet! Cloud drops out from a random vortex after his master was defeated. Where did he land?

On Sephiroths office desk in Shinra tower of course. Sephiroth poked him with his pen a few times before Cloud woke up.

"Master!" The blond exclaimed as he wrapped the larger man in a hug. Of course. Of freaking course, thats when Genesis barged in with a stack of paperwork tucked under his arm, (not even bothering to knock mind you!) "Ugh, Seph, you are not going to believe-" the redclad figure stopped in his tracks.

"...this isn't what is looks like."

Genesis wiggled his eyebrows suggestivly, "Sure it isn't." And he was back out in the hall without another word. The soft click the door gave seemed much too loud in the silence and only seemed to add to Sephiroths humiliation.

Thus began Cloud following around his "Master" wherever he went while Sephiroth and the SOLDIERS/Turks did everything in their power to stop him, only to fail hilariously or get beaten up by the (comparatively) petite blond for thier efforts

2. The Holy Trinity encounter Winged! Cloud from the future or a parallel dimention or something and instead of viewing him as a monster they think he's an actual angel and treat him accordingly.

3. Cloud had just finished burying a dead chocobo (may she rest in peace) he had found when he heard a twig snap from behind him.

He reached for Tsurugis handle only to pause when he saw a bright yellow ball of plumage peek out from behind a tree. The blond let out a small laugh. That was by far the fluffiest chick he had ever seen, hells, it was a perfect circle/

Cloud reached down and picked up the baby, "Hello there, are you lost?"

"Kweh!" The little circle cried out and Cloud was quickly surrounded by three other chicks, all wild and overly fluffy. He absently wondered if this was a new breed while they preceeded to peck at him with little effect. He just scooped them up and drove them to Bills place after a ruddementry search of the nearby area.

That was the end of it.

Until he woke up the next morning with three of the chicks sleeping on top of him. The blond was baffled and got up to search for the fourth, only to find it perched on Denzels head, shifting its balance as to not fall whenever Denzel began nodding off, threatening to fall asleep and plant his face in his breakfast.

If Cloud took a picture-or a dozen-no one would have to know

4. A mysterious ailment has been effecting all the creatures Hojo created using Jenovas cells causing them to run amok. With Cloud missing and AVALANCHE busy dealing with rampaging monsters, Denzel and Marlene sneak off to search for the missing blond, but will they find him in time? Or will Cloud be in the same state as the others?

5. Reno found Cloud at a mall in some nowhere town dressed as a girl. He was originally planning to use this as blackmail material before Cloud came out to him as trans.

Now Reno goes out with him and helps him keep his cover...while disguised of course. Wouldn't want anyone to recognize him and- by extention- Cloud.

Besides, if anyone did recognize them, Cloud had full permission to blame Reno and let him take the fall for it.

6. The SOLDIERS apparently had a "Chocobo protection squad" when Cloud was a trooper. He had no idea why Reeve had insisted he read this annoyingly thick file on it until he realized half way through the first page that it was about him

He was the "precious cutie chocobo that must be protected from the evils of the world"

Cloud wanted to burn it on principle...but was too curious to stop reading. Apparently most of the members were still alive and it seems he owes them a great deal, so maybe he should take Teef and the kids to visit some of them. Maybe bring gift baskets...

7. Cloud cursed as he stepped on the edge of his cloak, sending him tumbling down from the path and deeper into the cavern.

Cloud picked himself up from the ground, grateful his goggles kept any of the dirt and debris from entering his eyes.

He heard something from behind him and whirled around to slash at them with his dagger...except there was no one there.

Poink

Oh no. He looked down at the little creatures, wearing cloaks much like his own, only brown instead of the worn black fabric the professor gave them. The blond looked down sadly at the number tattooed on the back of his hand.

Guess I won't be going to the Reunion after all. Shame. Mother had said Zack would be there as a guest and he really wanted to see him again.

Poink!

One of the little creatures- Tonberry- mother supplied - was clutching the edge of his cloak and attempting to lead him somewhere.

Did...did this creature think himself one of them?!

Aka Numbered! Cloud! gets adopted by Tonberrys

8. Hojo waking up strapped to one of his own tables with Cloud and Sephiroth standing over him, grinning like mad men.

9. Au where Sephiroth escaped as a child and fled into the wild and was eventually taken in by the "dead" professor Gast and his wife Iflana

He was "never found" by the Turks and eventually grew up to be a bad ass vigilante.

Cloud shared a similar fate but kept running instead of being taken in, eventually becoming a vagabond until the fateful day when their paths crossed and the pull of Reunion drew them together

10. Enraged blue eyes locked on to the blond. It may have been nearly a thousand years since Shinra fell, but he would know that man anywhere.

Not just anyone could have destroyed a corporate entity as powerful as Shinra and in the span of a single month no less! But he didn't care much about that, oh no.

He cared about the fact that this lovely creature killed him and his fellow firsts and then had the audacity to just disappear into the sands of time, stripping materia of its power and somehow causing Gaias mako to sink deep beneath the soil, never to be seen by mere mortals again. After it did, monsters began appearing less and less frequently, until they stopped appearing at all.

With Shinra so thoroughly destroyed and no other sustainable power available, information and records deteriorated, leaving Shinras history spotty at best and non existent at worse (probably didn'thelp that records seemed to conveniently disappear). Now Shinra, monsters and magic are all considered fairytales from a bygone era.

He and the others occasionally visit the lake that was once the city of Midgar to light candles in honor of all they had lost. Like hell he was going to let the blond escape again. Genesis opened his phone and made a call, "Seph, I found him."

11. Cloud meeting Female Sephiroth. Shes rather impressed that he's completely unaffected by the boob window. It had been the death of many men before him, that was for certain.

Too bad he wants to kill her, she has a feeling she would have liked having him around. Maybe she'd introduce him to Angel's puppy? She had the peculiar ability to befriend everyone she met

12. Time traveler Sephiroth saves time traveler Cloud from the labs with Genesis and Angeal.

Cloud is wondering why Sephiroth saved him and what he's planning.

Meanwhile, Gen and Geal are freaking out and asking annoyingly sane questions, like "Who is this guy?", "Why do you seem to know him so well?", and my personal favorite "Why is there a man being held captive in the labs?!"

13. Lab Experiment Cloud au where teenager Cloud barrels into Sephiroth in the middle of escaping the tower and asks if Sephiroth is his dad.

Sephiroth stops functioning and he just stands there frozen in a full battle stance while Genesis fights and subsequently captures the teenager, who he then promptly kidnaps.

*later*

Sephiroth bursts into the labs and confronts Hojo, asking if he was a father.

Hojo laughs and says "Of course you are! Do you have any idea how many creatures I've spawned with your DNA?"

Cue Sephs mental breakdown and Genesis's rampage on behalf of his friend.

Angeal does his part by babysitting with some office secretaries

Aka: the trinity raising a broody teen

14. Post OG Nebilheim is super duper haunted and Yuffie is NOT okay with that.

Cloud is even less okay and they talk about it while sitting on the roof of Clouds abandoned house...well, the fake one anyway

15. Everyone gets therapy but its from the perspective of a therapist who is %1000 done with Hojo

Bonus: This is actually questions posed by a friend and it helped spawn number 10.

What would Shinra do if Mako where to suddenly disappear? How would that even happen?

Bonus Bonus: What would be the quickest/ most brutal way to take down Shinra and/or SOLDIER? How would the Firsts feel about being completely owned by a stranger who appeared out of nowhere? (This was also my thinking about 10)

Announcement: Due to lack of interest, list #75 will be the final one. Thank you for reading my ideas. It made me super happy!

[omnivorousshipper]

De aged Deckard: You’re gonna go far, kid - Part 22

Summary: When the Shaw siblings try to break into an Eteon facility, they’re met with some unexpected consequences. Now, it’s up to Owen and Hattie to be the older siblings Deckard never had. Even if they have no idea what they’re doing

Part 21

            Owen was sure he had died and was now being punished for everything he had done wrong in life as he listened to the Toretto crew try and fail at figuring out where his brother was. Deckard should have been safe at Hobbs’ house, but when he had gone to check on the little boy only an hour after Hobbs put him to bed, he was gone and the window wide open. Grinding his teeth, Owen couldn’t believe the window had been unlocked. What dumbass agent leaves a window unlocked?!

           When they had discovered Deckard had been taken, they had immediately gone out to search for him, calling up the Toretto crew to have as many people out searching. But, even driving through the streets of LA, Owen knew they wouldn’t be finding Deckard that night; whoever had taken the boy wasn’t your average kidnapper, especially since they were targeting a Shaw. No, Owen had a feeling who had taken Deckard: Eteon.

           The only question now was where they had taken Deckard.

           It was common knowledge to anyone in the know about the organization that they had bases everywhere in the world: deep in the middle of nowhere, at the top of mountains, hidden in the sand dunes of deserts, hiding in plain sight in a city, or maybe they were just down the street. There was no way for them to know, even when they had two of the world’s best hackers and trackers helping to find Deckard.

           “How is this possible?” Ramsey hissed for the dozenth time since she had set up in Hobbs’ living room with her little device, God’s Rectum or something, Owen didn’t know or care since the thing had yet to locate Deckard. “We should have at least found who took him! There’s no way they could block out the God’s Eye!”            “Unless they already know how to work around your system.” Hattie spoke up, searching away on her own computers and looking just as frustrated. “You said you haven’t improved on it in some time.”

           Owen had half a mind to tell Hattie not to insult a possible love interest by the way Ramsey’s face screwed up with indignity, but he decided that wasn’t important at the moment. What was important was finding Deckard.

           “But there’s nobody whose used it and could replicate it!” Ramsey argued.

           “Except for Cipher.” Owen spoke up, barely realizing the words were coming out of his mouth. Suddenly, all eyes were on him and he ignored all of them in favor of thinking through that particular train of thought.

           “You think she took Deckard?” Dom grunted. “How would she know about what happened to him? Unless you guys advertised it to everyone who hates your family.”

           “Wouldn’t put it past them,” Tej mumbled. Owen glared at him, but softened when the man hid behind Roman, who was looking at him with concern. Sighing, Owen shook his head.

           “I don’t think Cipher did. She wouldn’t have any use for Deck, other than for blackmail, and I don’t think she’s going to pull that same trick twice.” Owen purposely looked at Dom as he spoke. “But, I wouldn’t be surprised if she replicated that tech and sold it to the highest bidder. Eteon has never been shy of stealing technology for themselves.”

           “So, you think they’re able to block me from finding them?” Ramsey asked, shoulders slumping in defeat.

           “Probably.” Hattie nodded along with Owen’s logic. “They don’t want us coming after them again, and like our first run in with them, they’ll do anything to get their science experiments back.”

           “We answered the who and why, but now we need to answer the where.” Luke spoke up and looked over to Owen. “Any ideas?”

           “No.” Owen huffed. “Deck was the one who got the information on where a lot of their bases were located.”

           “Shit.” Roman whispered, saying what everyone was thinking. Owen couldn’t help but sneer at how ironic the whole situation was. The one who knew all about how to track down someone taken by Eteon had been turned into a child and then taken by said organization. How more fucked up could the day get?

           The answer was quite a lot, actually.

           Several more hours passed with Owen and Hattie exhausting all their contacts of any information on Eteon, while the crew had contacted their own contact, Mr. Nobody. Owen’s skin had crawled when he had met the man and his protégé, but past a threatening glare to stay away from him, he didn’t pay them any mind. Especially when all they could do was offer their unhelpful support. Absolutely useless in Owen’s opinion. They hadn’t even had Eteon on their radars because they barely knew about the group.

           Growling under his breath, Owen hung up on his last ditch contact and roughly passed a hand through his hair. He hadn’t felt this useless since he had been a child himself and couldn’t do anything to defend himself or his siblings. Now, here he was, stuck again not able to do anything because he simply didn’t know where Deckard was so he couldn’t even start planning on how to rescue the boy. How did things end up this way? Not more than a week ago, he and his siblings had been enjoying joking around and enjoying themselves. Now, his brother was three decades younger and missing, while Owen couldn’t do anything.

           Sitting down at Hobbs’ kitchen counter, Owen held his head in his hands when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Ready to bite the hand on his shoulder, Owen blinked when he saw Roman next to him. Relaxing, Owen let the man do what he wanted. He didn’t know why the man’s presence was calming, but at the moment, he wasn’t going to question it.

           “You do ok?” Roman asked gently, almost as if he was talking to a cornered animal.

           “No.” Owen didn’t bother lying. There was no use.

           “We’ll find him.” Owen smiled at the plain optimism and conviction in Roman’s voice. He wanted to believe him so badly. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here-”

           Before he could continue, the doorbell interrupted him. Frowning, Owen lifted his head and sent a quizzical look towards Luke, who looked equally surprised. Body tense, Owen gently shrugged off Roman’s hand and sent him a small, grateful smile before following Luke towards the front door. With every step, Owen felt that something was off- like something, or someone, was going to throw everything into chaos. And Owen should know, he was usually the person to do that.

           Staying behind Luke, he watched as the larger man opened the door to reveal several people.

           Two of whom were his parents.

           Queenie and Victor Shaw.

           Owen didn’t hesitate to throw himself at his father, knife already in his hand and pointing straight at the man’s heart.

[flowesona]

The Devil - Yandere! Taehyung x reader

The Tarot Series

Warning: Explicit / Sexual content, Alcohol use, Allusions to non-con

The drowning beat of the club, the flashing colourful lights, the indecent displays. All of it was doing (Y/N)’s head in, as she counted down the minutes until her shift was over. 

She wasn’t proud to be working in a strip club. But the pay was good, and she’d gotten used to seeing scantily clad people. Most of the time she kept her back turned anyway, and never had to interact with the patrons beyond serving a few drinks.

Once 3 AM struck, she was finally free to start closing the bar. Wiping down the surfaces, checking the fridge temperatures, mopping the floor. 

She didn’t even notice someone standing by, watching, until she turned to leave only to bump into his chest.

“Oh! I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t see you there.” (Y/N) spluttered, her face crimson. She was used to people lingering about, but this man was another level of stunning. Glossy black hair, golden skin and decked in high end brands to complete his luxurious appearance. 

“That’s fine… (Y/N).” He replied, leering at her name badge. “You’re clocking out for the night correct?”

“I’m sorry sir, I don’t think that’s any of your business. If you’re looking for a stripper to fuck, they’ll be in their dressing rooms.” She said, brushing past him. He tried to follow her, only to have the staff door slammed abruptly in his face. A sickening crack resounded, his nose now dribbling crimson blood and a fire lit within.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“(Y/N)? Can we talk?” As soon as she had hung up her coat in the staff room at the start of her shift, Jin was waiting for her, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Is something wrong?”

“No… well… come to my office, sweetheart. There’s some business we need to sort out.” He said with a grim expression. (Y/N) bit her tongue, wondering what she could possibly be in trouble for. She never took money from the register, or turned up late. What reason did Jin, a relatively pleasant person for the profession he was in, have to fire her?

That reason was sat in one of the leather chairs of the office, a bandage around his nose and dressed in a far too expensive jacket.

“(Y/N), this is Kim Taehyung. I’ve been told you slammed one of our doors in his face, and now his nose is severely injured as a result of this.” (Y/N)’s stomach dropped as she recognised him, realised just what she’d done. Rejecting a rich man then accidentally injuring him would be sure to have steep consequences. 

“He wanted to talk with you about compensation.” Jin gave her a gentle push towards the other chair, giving a light pat on the shoulder at the same time before leaving the room.

“(Y/N).” Hearing that deep voice again sent a shiver down her spine, as she was forced to make eye contact with the handsome patron.

“I’m really sorry about what I did! But please, I don’t have that much money, I could probably only cover half of your medical bill if it needs to get fixed.” She was ready to get on her knees and beg the man if necessary. He had all the power over her. To take her job away, to sue her for every penny she owned.

“That’s not what I’m asking for, love.” Taehyung breathed, beckoning for her to take the seat. She said as he indicated, resisting the urge to cry.

“(Y/N), when I approached you the other night, I was only going to ask if I could buy you a drink.” He looked earnest enough, resting his elbows on his knees. But (Y/N) could sense there was something different about him. He just reeked of greed, and she felt that he would suck her dry if given the chance.

“Sir, I’m not sure if it’s appropriate for me to do that with a customer. I’m a bartender, not a hostess.” The words got lost in her throat. Taehyung blinked.

“I’m an old friend of Jin, he wouldn’t mind. Even so, I would like to take you to a different bar. One that I own.” His gaze was intense as he spoke. “Or, you could pay for the plastic surgery I’ve gotten on my nose to repair the damage you did. But I don’t suppose you’d be working here if you had five grand to spare, would you?”

‘Bastard.’

 No doubt, Kim Taehyung was a demon with the power to match. As (Y/N) dumbly nodded her head, letting him launch into arranging a time, she couldn’t help but wonder if she could do anything at all.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

Taehyung’s bar was much more sophisticated than (Y/N)’s workplace, with dim orange lights and soft music from a band on the stage to create a sensual mood. Of course, there were still plenty of people getting way too close for comfort, and in a moment of delirium (Y/N) reached out to take Taehyung’s hand as he led her to a table near the back.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go to draw out a seat for her.

“What do you drink (Y/N)? Wine? A cocktail, perhaps?” 

“A margarita would be lovely, thank you.” She replied curtly. How she wished the night would be over, and for the time being as she could do to remedy her sorrows was drink something strong enough to get her buzzed. Taehyung nodded before striding away, although his presence lingered behind. The ambience of the bar screamed his name, as if it itself was trying to lure her in as he did, to hypnotise her into doing his will and make her pay if she did not.

Taehyung pulled one of the bar staff aside to give his order, asking them to double the tequila, before pushing past into the back room to find the heating and kicking it up a few notches.

As soon as their drinks were ready he picked them up and made his way back to (Y/N), only to see someone standing next to her. Some semi-decent looking man was trying to make conversation with her. Even if this man was clearly rich and charming, he didn’t have an inch of the leverage Taehyung possessed over (Y/N). Nor a fraction of the obsession that Taehyung had.

(Y/N) was so caught up in her conversation , she didn’t even notice his return until the beautifully garnished cocktail was placed in front of her.

“I hope that I haven't been gone too long that you had to seek another man’s company.” Taehyung glowered at the patron, silently telling him to scram. Forget the business, forget the reputation. (Y/N)’s company was not something he would let anyone else take from him.

(Y/N) flushed pink with embarrassment, at the notion that she was some attention seeking village bicycle. Meanwhile, Taehyung simply seated himself opposite her, a glass of whiskey in hand.

“Why… did you want to take me out for a drink so badly?” (Y/N) quiered cautiously, taking a sip of her margarita and noting the taste was stronger than anything she’d ever had before. 

“Well, I want to get to know you, (Y/N). You’re beautiful, and I am very interested in your company.” Taehyung replied smoothly, eyes trained on her. 

“So much so that you had to blackmail me into coming out with you?” (Y/N) quirked an eyebrow. The alcohol instantly relaxed her, perhaps too much. If she’d had time to think, she wouldn’t have dared question the man who would easily ruin her life.

“Touché. But you wanted to keep things professional, correct? Then this is just a business transaction.” 

It was one hell of a business meeting, that was for sure. Over several secretly doubled margaritas she learnt he’d known Jin for a number of years, right when he opened his first cabaret. He even admitted to having seen (Y/N) a few times, but only decided to approach her that night since he’d done a line and felt more powerful than any other person in the city.

“But why me? The hookers must be falling over each other to get a rich man like you?” (Y/N)’s words had an adorable slur to them, and she’d advanced to taking the seat next to him rather than opposite him. 

“I’ve never seen a woman more perfect for me. And I just know that you can’t resist me.” His hand reached across to stroke her thigh. Her skin felt like it was on fire, the only thing cooling her being the rings that adorned his fingers.

(YN) leaned into his touch. Whether it was the lighting, the alcohol or the interest he was showing in her, she saw him as the most attractive guy on earth.

“I think we’ve overstayed our welcome. If you’re interested, I’ve got plenty of drinks at my place. Or we can do something else.” At her cautious nod ho stood up, taking her hand in his impatiently. He’d been wearing her down all evening, and it was satisfying to see it work. There was less separating (Y/N) and her coworkers than she liked to think. 

In fact, it was hard to hold back from fucking her in the back of his car en route to his penthouse, as she was eager. But he had a way to make the payoff much sweeter than just a few minutes of pleasure.

“I’m going fuck you senseless, love.” Taehyung breathed as he pushed her down onto the bed. (Y/N) moaned at their contact, trying to grasp at his cool skin to comfort her own.

“Patience, love.” He chuckled as he removed his tie, before looping it around her wrists. (Y/N) was desperate, whining on the verge of begging for him to fuck her, but Taehyung wanted to keep her waiting, to taunt her as she had done to him by refusing him in the first place. But with the right mood and good looks, Taehyung had no trouble peeling off (Y/N)’s clothes, as he gave her a night she would never forget. Certainly, the hidden camera in his wall was his insurance to make sure she wouldn’t forget.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

(Y/N) was terrified to return to work. To have her impulsive night of pleasure backfire as Taehyung would tell Jin about what happened without hesitation, and she would lose her job. All for that demon’s sadistic pleasure, she guessed. 

Taehyung was revelling in the glory of sleeping with (Y/N). Indeed, he’d been blowing up her phone for days on end after acquiring her number. How he’d obtained it was ambiguous, but what was clear was that he wasn’t prepared to let things go as easily as she’d hoped. 

But when she finally had to go back to work with no more sick days available, she found Taehyung’s plan to be of a different design than having her thrown to the streets.

Her first evening back at work wasn’t too bad to begin with. The club was packed with regulars, what with it being Friday night. (Y/N) didn’t have time to be scared of seeing Taehyung with the amount of people waiting to be served. 

Finally, as people drifted away from the bar, (Y/N) could breathe. But only for a second before it was snatched away. As (Y/N) poured herself a soda, so she could finally relax, she heard the sound of moaning coming from the speakers. At first she thought nothing of it, until she heard the corresponding male voice. 

“You’re a fucking whore for me, aren’t you (Y/N)?”

(Y/N)’s head perked up, her eyes darting towards the large television that usually played sensual music videos to go with the performances, or the occasional softcore porn to get people provoked. But, over the tops of the heads of people crowded around it, she could see the video that was playing. 

Her and Taehyung. Naked. Having sex.

“Is that…?” (Y/N) couldn’t bear to face any of the judgement, dashing out from the bar to the staff area. She tried to wipe away her tears, as she knocked on Jin’s door. 

The door was opened, and the devil was there himself. Kim Taehyung, looking more smug than before.

“Here’s the woman of the hour. Our video was quite a hit, love.”

“Let me talk to Jin.” (Y/N) hissed, her face red.

“Is he on your bucket list too?” Taehyung taunted. “Everyone here knows what a whore you are now, after all.”

“Leave me alone. This is all… you’re a monster, Kim Taehyung.”

“I know, love.” He purred, his hands circling her waist. “But who else do you have? I’ve dragged you down to my level, and here shall you stay.”

(Y/N) shivered as his teeth grazed the shell of her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

“Next time, don’t make a deal with the Devil, love, if you don’t want to get burned.”

[skylarmoon71]

Leonardo x Reader Oneshot TMNT 2014/2016

Disclaimer: I own my love for fanfiction, nothing more. Enjoy!!

"I don't trust you." To say those words didn't hurt would be a blatant lie. Standing in the lair with all four turtles around, you blinked, determined not to show any type of weakness. Leo's eyes were resolute after the statement, and the three other turtles grew quiet. 

It started with Mikey's casual teasing. You were so used to it, so when he joked about Leo having a crush on you because he constantly gave you the cold shoulder, you laughed it off. Mikey's wasn't being serious. But apparently it struck a nerve with Leo.

"Leonardo." Splinter heard it all. You could see the way Leo's jaw was clenched, and all you wanted to do was punch him in his stupid leader face.

"Raph is right, you really are nothing but a jerk!" you pushed up your glasses, turning on your heels as you stormed off. You knew the moment you got back to your room you'd fall apart. But you could save a little face. You just needed to ensure you didn't fall apart in front of him. You wouldn't give him that power.

Leo's mistrust wasn't completely unwarranted. Your meeting with the turtles was fairly unique. It wasn't in an act of heroism. You had in fact tracked them down. Like Donatello, you were very good with computers. A master hacker. Because of your little hobby, it provided a lot of room for snooping. In middle school you hacked NASA, and they were none the wiser. By the beginning of high school, you were hooked up to every police scan and federal cases. Everything and anything that you wanted to know was right at your fingertips.

Being an orphan probably didn't help with your moral compass. As long as you knew it was always about seeking our own self interest. You were now a junior in high school. Being a New Yorker was pretty much the usual. Grumpy people, busy bodies. What wasn't ordinary was alien invasions. It alarmed you when there were metal boxes floating in the streets, panic throughout the city. What pissed you off was the fact that it was never addressed as to what really happened that day. The government provided some half assed excuse, and everyone just accepted it. Determined to get to the bottom of your newest interest, you'd stumbled upon something quite interesting.

A fellow hacker, almost as gifted as you. Not nearly as careful though. At the time you had no idea it was Donnie. You just followed the informational patterns that strangely aligned with all the unexplained incidents that occured in New York. Intrigued, you kept pushing, and even decided to confront the individuals that you were led to. Safe to say four giant mutant turtles were not what you were expecting. After nearly having a heart attack, you finally solved the mystery of the vigilantes.

A very unexpected development emerged from your discovery. You befriended them. Donatello was impressed at your technical skills, and you were even more with him. You were born with the genes basically, probably from your parents, but they were created. He adapted his intelligence all on his own, and to you that was astounding.

Months passed, and you found that being with the turtles and even assisting when you could, you felt like you were a part of something great. Something amazing. You were helping people with your gift, rather than using it for your own means of living. All in all, they seemed to like you. Even Raph who probably was the least trusting of strangers warmed up to you. The only one who held a general dislike for you was apparently Leo. 

Since your meeting was a bit forced, he was weary of you. As time went by you thought that would fade. It wasn't like you would reveal their secret to anyone; they were your friends. At least that's how you saw them. Leo obviously didn't feel the same. Not that you cared. If he wanted to act like a douche then you would let him. If he thought those words would make you run he was wrong. You will be back first thing tomorrow. After you were done crying a little to day that was.

~The Next Day~

"Don't worry too much about Leo. Ya gotta give him time. " Raph nudged you on your seat on the couch as you were beating him in mario kart.

"I'm not worried. It's his fault if he wants to keep that giant stick up his ass." Raph laughed out loud and you joined, adjusting your glasses quickly so you didn't lose your spot on the course. Someone clearing their throat behind you made you drop the control. You didn't have to turn to know who it was. Raph was already standing, flipping over the couch.

He was probably there because it was about that time for them to go on patrol. Raph ruffled your hair with a grin. "See ya later kid, I'll be back to beat ya."

"Hah, maybe in your dreams!" Donatello rushed past, handing you a computer. "Thanks for the codes, the servers are moving a lot faster (Y/N)." you nod. "Sure thing Donnie, anything for a brother hacker." you showed him a peace sign smiling. Mikey was the last to join, swinging his nunchucks. "Who's ready to kick some criminal butt!" he said excitedly. Raph and Donnie just turned, not really acknowledging the younger turtle's antics. "Really? No one." he followed behind still trying to get a word from his brothers. Leo lingered there, and it took you a moment to realize he was staring at you.

You frowned. "Don't worry, I'm not going to burn down your home or anything, so you don't have to keep watch. " you stood, pushing your glasses up your nose, heading in the opposite direction. Leo knew he deserved the hostility. After the conversation with Splinter, he felt like he really understood nothing about his feelings.

~Flashback~

"Did they forget that she basically blackmailed us just to see who we were. Why am I the bad guy." He was more than a little frustrated. Even Raph was lecturing him on his statement that day. Raph of all people.

"Leonardo, she's young, just like you. I believe there is another reason you're conflicted about her."

"What do you mean?" He couldn't understand what Splinter was trying to say.

"Maybe you have learned to see her in another light. And it's difficult for you to understand. So your mind is telling you it's mistrust, but is that what you really feel?" His forehead creased in thought.

"What I really feel." He couldn't come up with a good answer. His encounters with you were never lengthy. He barely acknowledged you on most occasions. But when he did, he found that he was watching, or more like studying what you did. Your intelligence, humor, and those glasses that never seemed to stay perched up on your face. Leo's eyes grew wide.

"Sensei I..."

"You have feelings for her." Leo wanted to swallow his tongue. That couldn't be.

"There is nothing wrong with what you feel, however you need to be more careful with your words. (Y/N), despite her resilience is still very much a child. " Leo was still in a sense of shock. Splinter walked over, patting him on the shoulder. "I know you will find a way to make amends with her. Just be honest." he said nothing else, walking off with his hands folded behind his back.

"How am I supposed to do that." If you disliked him before, you definitely hated him now.

~Flashback end~

Leo released a heavy sigh. It would take a lot to take back those words. Right now, all he wanted was to let you know that he was wrong. It didn't matter if you detested him. He just needed to restore the trust he should have placed in you the moment he realized you cared for his family the same way he did.

~~~

"Mikey check out my costume!!" you were sporting a pikachu onesie. It was halloween after all, and you were more than excited to show off the cute yellow design.

"Pika pika~" you mimicked the sound your favorite Pokémon with a smile.

"You're so cute!" he gushed in a baby voice. You giggled, adjusting your glasses. The parade was about to start and you didn't want to miss it. Since this was one of the few days the turtles could roam around without suspicion, you were overjoyed. It was the first outing you had with them all together outside. You bounced on your feet when Donatello and Raph came from around the corner talking about training most likely. "Come on guys we need to get going!" you urged. Raph placed his hand on your pointed hoodie. "Alright hold ya horses. Leo's coming too." You puffed your cheeks at that.

"Great, the world's greatest killjoy is joining us." You really didn't want Leo's strict attitude on your night of fun.

"Speak of the devil." He was walking with his eyes in a book. When he saw everyone gathered his eyes raised. When they landed on you, he stopped completely. You knew it was stupid, but you blushed, because of the awe in his eyes as he looked at you. Your gaze moved down as you grabbed at the tail of your costume, fiddling with it. "Dummy, why is he looking at me like that!" Leo was the last person you wanted to make your heart beat that way. You weren't even wearing tight clothing either, so why the hell was he staring like you were the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. Leo willed himself to look away, placing his book down.

"She looks so cute." Of course he didn't say it out loud. Regaining his cool, he folded his arms.

"You guys ready."

"Yeah dude we were waiting for you." Mikey reached over picking you up, you were laughing the entire time.

"Onward soldiers!!" he shouted. Raph just tapped him on the head. "Dude!" Donnie rolled his eyes.

"If you guys start fighting Sensei won't let us go." he informed. Mikey made a zipping motion on his lips. Leo watched his brothers marching away with you. And a tinge of jealousy rushed through his body seeing how comfortable you seemed with Mikey.

~~~

Walking through the streets you took in all the creative costumes. Bands were marching, people cheering, bodies jumping and prancing to the music that blared through the speakers. Mikey was a little ways ahead, easily making friends in the crowd of people. He looked so happy. Raph and Donnie's eyes were also trained on Mikey. The content expressed on their faces was really indescribable. They usually gave him a hard time, and you knew it was just how brothers acted with each other. He was the youngest, and you were positive if anyone tried to hurt him, they would protect him in a heartbeat.

"Hey there, are you all alone cutie." you were so distracted that you didn't realize you got partially separated from the others. The male blocking your way annoyed you. Raph and the others were a short way up the street. If you could just get past this guy you could join them.

"Sorry but I'm with my friends. I've got to go." He moved closer to grab your hand, and you were about to recoil when a hand came down and pulled you backwards. You stumble into something firm, and when you look up, blue eyes are glaring at the man before you. "She's taken." the guy raised both his hands with a laugh. "Alright hulk no need to get mad. You should keep a better watch on your girl." He backed up, leaving, falling back into the crowd. When he was gone, those electric eyes moved in your direction. He was still holding unto you.

"T-Thank you Leo." you weren't much of a fighter, and you would hate it if the turtles first outing got ruined because you couldn't stay close. "Be more careful, guys like that are nothing but trouble. I'd hate it if you got hurt."

That was the nicest thing he'd ever really said to you.

Wait a minute.

"What did you mean I'm taken? " you raised a brow. Leo let you go, taking a step back.

"I was just..I didn't want him getting any ideas." He wouldn't look at you. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"N-No it's okay. I kinda figured as much." Why the hell were you disappointed at his answer. You should know better.

"By the way, you're costume it's..really nice." you flush, fixing your glasses.

"O-Oh! T-Thanks." You must have been dreaming. Another nice statement from Leo. What was the world coming to? The both of you stood there awkwardly for a while, neither sure what to do.

This was the longest conversation you had with Leo that didn't end up with animosity on either side. Your eyes caught his hand that was hanging, and you took it softly in your own. Leo looked up stunned. "S-So we don't get separated again." you clarified. Raph and the others were already a ways ahead. It would have been bad if you got into another little scuffle. So you started moving to them, keeping a soft grip on Leo's hand so he didn't fall behind. You kept your eyes forward, because you knew if you looked at him again, he'd figure out just how happy you were to hold his hand.

If only he knew how you felt.

~~~~

"Ugh! I hate these so much." you sighed heavily, massaging your eyelids. "What's the matter?" you almost jumped, startled by the concern in Leo's voice. Everyone else seemed taken in their own task. Mikey didn't even turn from his game at your small yell. "I-It's really nothing, just a code. It's been stressing me out for the last hour. "

 Leo took a seat next to you on the chair, turning you in his direction. You just watched him, waiting for whatever he was about to do. He smiled, reaching out and removing your glasses. You closed your eyes not really expecting the gesture. "You have to stop for a while and..." when his words started to trail off you were confused. "W-What's wrong?" He looked so dazed, it sort of alarmed you.

"It's nothing, it's just your eyes...they're beautiful." he muttered.

"Oh boy."

Since the Halloween party, Leo was being especially nice to you. Now that you thought about it, he'd been doing it way before that.

"You're beautiful.." He was very careful not to voice that, still, he could think it. Because it was true. To him you were breathtaking, his only regret was that he'd didn't figure out his feelings before. Maybe now it wouldn't have been so hard for him to be honest about how he felt.

Your eyes were staring in shock, your mouth slightly agape.

"Did you just...call me beautiful." Leo paused.

"W-What?"

"You said...you said that I'm beautiful." surely you didn't imagine those words coming from his mouth. What was really going on here. Of course you were overjoyed. But didn't he still not trust you? Why was he saying these things, looking at you the way he did. Leo stood in ample time, and before you could get another word in he was leaving hurriedly.

"I-I have to go." He didn't offer an explanation, just bolted like his life depended on it. You sat there, flustered and maybe even a little irritated.

"Why the heck is he pulling me in so many directions."

One day he's telling you to your face that he doesn't trust you, then the next he's looking out for you, complimenting you. It was driving you crazy.

"I hate boys." you groaned.

~~~~

The soft knock on his door had his eyes lifting. He stopped momentarily attending to his bonsai tree. When the door opened, his heart staggered for a fleeting second. You walked in, shutting it. Your hands were behind your back, and you could barely hold eye contact with him. Leo wasn't much better. He placed down the small clippers, shifting on his feet. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, concerned about the surprise visit.

"Y-Yes actually." you needed to get a handle on whatever this crazy thing was between the both of you.

"Why have you been acting so weird with me. I know the both of us we've never really been on the best terms. And I guess I don't help that much. But you're the same. You say things to me to piss me off and I get so agitated! " You were shouting, and Leo's head lowered.

"Then you act so sweet and kind out of nowhere and it completely messes me up because I can't read you at all. Do you hate me or not!"

"I could never hate you (Y/N)." That simple statement the way he said it, the look on his face. It struck you right in the heart.

"Why do you do that.." you lips quivered, and you took a step forward, Leo didn't expect to see the tears that were gathering in your eyes.

"Stop giving me hope and then tearing it from me. Y-You have no idea how I feel about you.." Damn it, your intention was never to break down in front of him. Leo clenched his fists, and you raised your hands to wipe away your tears. When you heard him walking towards you, everything in your body stilled. Leo's hand rested on your cheek, and you opened your mouth to say more, but Leo stole whatever words you had prepared. Standing there wide eyed, you could barely believe the feeling of his lips pressed softly to your own. Because of the height difference. He had to lean down slightly. When he pulled back, his eyes flickered open. The glow of his eyes were somewhat surreal.

"I should have never said that to you (Y/N). That day..I was stupid. Long before I had feelings for you. I guess I was just too scared to admit how I felt, so I kept my distance, and created excuses to keep it that way. I'm so sorry that I made you feel like you weren't welcomed. You're just as much a part of this family as April and Vern. "

"Leo.." so the entire time he cared about you, the same way you did for him. He just didn't want to accept it. Maybe he was terrified you wouldn't see him the same.

"Dummy." you mutter. Leo smiled at that, scratching his neck. "I have been an idiot. As a leader I should have understood better."

"Maybe you should stop expecting yourself to constantly know the answer for everything Leo. Somethings just aren't that logical." He knew that, now.

"There's still so much I need to learn. Will you help me?" you blushed, trying to hide it.

"S-Sure. I am a genius after all." you boasted, nudging your glasses.

"Yes you are." you gazed at him, nibbling on your lower lip.

"Leo..that kiss.."

"I'm sorry! That was definitely not okay. I think I just..reacted." You could tell he was still a bit unnerved by it all. He still wasn't completely sure of your feelings.

"I kind of liked it." you mumble. Leo is still, processing your words. When he takes a step forward, you can't stop the quickening of your heart beat.

"Can I kiss you again?" The fact that he asks permission this time causes your heart to do flips. He's standing right in front of you, and his eyes have already zeroed in on your lips. You stop nibbling on your lips when you feel his warm palm on your cheek. He doesn't make another move, waiting for an answer. When words fail, you simply give a small nod. Leo smiles warmly, that all he needs.

He lowers to meet your lips, and as he does, his forehead lightly taps your glasses. You flush in embarrassment, and Leo just chuckles. "Have I ever told you that you're absolutely adorable in glasses." The comment makes your cheeks darken even more, and as you think of a reply, Leo banishes any chance of you forming coherent thoughts. His lips are so soft. And the way he's holding your face in his palms, it makes you want to melt on the spot. Every movement is gentle and almost calculated.

The right amount of pressure and passion. How does he know to kiss so well? It shocks you, the expert way his lips are clashing with yours. It's possible he's seen one to many movies, and like the prodigy he is, the skill was something he picked up quickly. "Leo.." You can't do much but submit to him, and this time. This time there is no doubt in your mind. Because you finally know  his feelings, and he's aware of yours as well. When he picks you up bridal style, you're a bit taken by surprise, separating for a brief moment. As you do so, his eyes are a lot closer, and you can see everything. All his fears, wants, struggles, desires...

It's enough to overwhelm your heart. But you aren't afraid. Not at all. Because this is Leo. He may be terrible at voicing his feelings, but you know for a fact that he won't hurt you. Not at all. His blue bandana does wonders to highlight the similar glow of his eyes.

You can't look away, and you don't want to. Your hand presses to the center of his chest, and right beneath your palm you feel it. The insistent strumming. The look in your eyes changes to one of surprise, and he immediately knows why. "It's...harder for me to hide it when you're so close." This entire time he's been acting so confident and in control. Yet, he's just as smitten as you, Maybe ever more. You grin at that. "You don't have to." You reach up, reclaiming his lips, and nothing in the world seems sweeter than the taste of Leo's lips. And you know for a fact, nothing ever will.

[awyeahitssam]

Bakery!AU, werewolf Stiles Stilinski, no Hale fire. Working Title: No Shoes, No Shirts, No Fucks Given

Stiles wakes up in the middle of the woods, the bark of a large tree stump digging into his bare back.

Looks down.

Notes that he’s butt naked, though the sensation of twigs and leaves in uncomfortable places could’ve clued him in well enough without the visual input.

Groans.

“Fucking seriously? I knew I should’ve stuck to city life.”

He’s been a werewolf for nine weeks, and it’s the first time he’s left Berkeley since he was bitten. His dad had heavily hinted that he wanted him home for winter break months ago, and back then Stiles had been eager to agree.

That was Before. After, he just felt a crawling anxiety.

It was his dad. There was no way Noah wouldn’t notice something different about Stiles. He was a cop, trained to be observant, and in the past Stiles might have been fine but Noah had really stepped up his parenting game in Stiles’ junior year. He was hardly an absent father these days, which seemed like a bad thing for the first (okay, fifth) time.

Point being that Stiles took his finals, packed his shit, and decided to drive the two and a half hours back to Beacon Hills on about zero hours of sleep. Because he was an adult and could do what he wanted, and he wanted to be home two days sooner than promised, before his dad could throw out whatever incriminating shit was in the fridge.

After nearly falling asleep twice in about eighty minutes, Stiles ceded, pulled into a rest stop, and decided on a nap before continuing on. He had been taught to drive by three separate police officers, and besides that wasn’t dumb enough to keep himself in a situation that would have him crashing into a pole.

Key word being keep himself in, because he sure as heck would put himself in it during some manic burst of energy.

So he wasn’t super sure about the moral of this story. Don’t pass out at a rest stop,  you’ll be kidnapped, stripped, and dumped in a forest?

More like: being a werewolf sucked ass.

The only footprints that he could see were his own, and his feet were bare but undamaged, coated in several layers of dirt.

Stiles groaned, standing and relishing the pop of his spine. Then he picked a direction.

Started walking.

It takes Stiles about half an hour to find his way out of the woods, and by that time he’s recognized it as the Beacon Hills preserve. Maybe it was a Stiles thing, or more likely it was a werewolf thing (because Stiles liked a brand new excuse to blame everything on as much as the next guy), but this was no half-assed form of sleepwalking. He had gone at least sixty miles.

It took another twenty minutes of jogging to make his way into town. His dad’s house would be another forty or so, and increased body temperature or not, he’s freezing.

He sees a light on and goes for it, because whatever happens can’t be worse than being caught half-naked and covered in dirt by the old lady next door who babysat him when he was little.

It’s a bakery, less than six months old since Stiles hasn’t been home in that long and it wasn’t here last time. His dad had probably mentioned it in passing, but Stiles can’t remember for the life of him.

Most importantly, when he pushes the door (completely bypassing the ‘Closed’ sign) it budges open, bell chiming over the entryway. A sharp-eyed man looks up from the counter, mouth already open to snap something, and his words fall away in the face of Stiles pathetic state.

“Look man, I know the sign says ‘No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service.’ but I just had the weirdest night and your shop is the only building with lights on this early and I’m really, really hoping you have some spare clothes behind the counter.”

Stiles stares the dark-haired baker down hopelessly, giving his best doe eyes, and says, “Help?”

It’s not something he’s used to asking for, but put in this situation there’s not much else to do.

For the longest moment the man just stares into Stiles’ eyes, but then he takes a deep breath and the crease between his brows eases.

“Come with me,” he sighs, raising the counter so Stiles can follow him into the back of the shop. “Wouldn’t want the Sheriff’s son to be arrested for public indecency, would we?”

Stiles tries not to bristle, because there are several officers on duty (two of which he had dodged on his way) and the guy seems like he’s about to help him out. Besides, something about the man’s presence is settling, and his frazzled mind finally seems to be focusing for the first time in days.

Of course, it gets a little sketchy when that focus extends to him memorizing the scent of the guy’s shampoo and hearing his heartbeat like a loud, steady drum directly in his ear. Stiles is trying to wrangle in his super senses when a pair of sweatpants and a white tee are shoved into his arms. He turns to blink up at the man, who’s tugging his button up back on sans undershirt, and shifts awkwardly.

“Uh, thanks,” Stiles rasps, and swallows when he realizes how hoarse his voice sounds for the first time.

“Change in here,” the man says curtly, showing Stiles to the employee restroom. “We’ll talk when you’re done.”

Stiles nods, entering the bathroom with a heavy sense of trepidation. He’s going to have a hard time explaining this away, and he knows it. Still, he’s earned a reputation as ‘silvertongue’ at college, and not just because Loki was his favorite Marvel character and Stiles was good with his mouth.

He dresses slowly, bits of a plan coming together as he wipes the dirt from his feet with a damp paper towel and washes his hands. By the time he exits he looks somewhat presentable, mostly in that he’s no longer naked and doesn’t have dirt streaking his face, legs, and feet.

He hears movement towards the front of the shop, and spares a longing glance towards what he assumes in the back door, but before he can make a move the baker pops his head around the corner, eyes narrowed.

“I made tea,” he announces, and it sounds bizarrely threatening. “Come join me.”

Stiles flashes him a sheepish (and one-hundred-percent false) smile and follows him out to one of the tables. They sit.

“So, uh, thanks for the clothes—I’ll wash them and bring them back here tomorrow, if that’s cool?”

The man shrugs ambivalently, but his eyes are sharp and heavy as he regards Stiles. “That’s acceptable. Care to explain your nude jaunt through the night?”

“It’s morning,” Stiles quips back, mouth quicker than his brain, and winces preemptively, waving his hand through the air as though to dismiss his automatic snark. “No, ignore that, I’m rude and yeah, you kinda deserve an explanation here.”

Stiles sighs heavily, looking to the ceiling as if asking for some otherworldly assistance, before crossing his hands and looking back to Peter with faux seriousness. “No one in the history of ever should agree to a drunken carpool with frat boys.”

The guy’s eyebrows raise.

“Not, like, drunk driving carpool. This was more of a everyone-but-the-driver-is-wasted-after-finals-and-the-driver-can’t-turn-down-a-good-bet-to-save-his-life kind of situation. And, if you aren’t following, I was the driver.”

It's a simple enough part for Stiles to play. Stupid college student gets in over his head. Sheriff’s Kid - Bad Again? Cliches exist for a reason.

Stiles falls into his role flawlessly, blushing and wincing and laughing awkwardly at all the right points. He pulls experiences from his life to make the emotions more genuine, though some part of him still feels distant and amused by the whole situation. It’s probably the same part of Stiles that cackles at the misfortune of others and thinks morbid things at the least appropriate times.

So yes, Stiles is caught up in the lie, but he’s also monitoring the guy for a reaction. Nothing about his countenance seems to indicate disbelief so it’s a good bet this is working. Stiles was seven when he taught himself to be a good liar.

Becoming a werewolf just made him a great one. The ability to smell whether somebody was buying his shit or not was invaluable.

And really, who would admit to such a preposterous and embarrassing tale if it wasn’t true?

“—and now that you’ve got enough material to blackmail me for life, what even is your name?”

The guy, who had stared at him steadily through his rant, scent fluctuating between incredulity, amusement, and irritation, tapped neat nails on the table between them. “I’m ever-so hurt you don’t already know it, but very well. It’s Peter.”

Stiles cocked a brow.

“Hale.”

Stiles blinked, because Hale was not only a name he knew from childhood, but one that had popped up in his extensive research into his sudden lycanthropy.

And this guy couldn’t be serious.

“Oh? Any relation to Talia Hale?”

The man smirks. Stiles wonders if he can smell his building irritation at the thought that—

“Oh yes, Alpha Hale is my older sister.”

Good god.

“Did you seriously just sit there listening to my ode on the tribulations of being a dumb college kid for shits and giggles?”

Peter shrugs loosely. “I wanted to see if you could lie convincingly, and it seems you can.”

Stiles’ exhaustion and grumpiness began to peek through the need to protect his secret. He had to find his car, figure out what led to the sleepwalking and how to prevent it in the future, and determine whether or not he was going to be attacked for entering another pack's territory despite having grown up there.

He also had one million questions about the whole ‘how to werewolf’ issue, but he’d been doing fine on his own so far and Stiles hated asking for help. Especially from someone that practically reeked of smugness.

Stiles wrinkled his nose, huffed, and stood. “Thanks for the outfit, I’ll bring it back tomorrow morning.”

He turned to the door, and for a moment Peter let him live in the delusion that he could walk out without a word.

“You know, sweetheart, your life is going to be difficult if you can’t even tell a born were from your average human.”

Stiles stalled, glancing back. It was a good point. Stiles had been in the same high school as Cora Hale for four years and never even suspected. Clearly he wasn’t as observant as he liked to think.

“My life is already pretty difficult, darling. Are you just pointing out what’s evident, or offering a solution?”

Peter made a thoughtful humming sound, watching him expectantly, and Stiles scoffed. “Yeah, I thought not.”

Whatever this man wanted from him, Stiles wasn’t interested.

He was halfway out the door when Peter asked, “Would you like a ride?”

Stiles grit his teeth and tried to think logically. He couldn’t show up at his dads sans jeep, and he really didn’t fancy walking the sixty plus miles to find it.

Still, “Don’t you have a shop to open?”

[awesomerextyphoon]

A Warrior’s Heart | Phase 1: Welcome - 1

Redo?

Summary: Ifekerenma got caught and blackmailed into joining the Team by Tony Stark. Her first impressions were...well, can she get a redo?

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Word Count: 2.540

Warning: Explicit Language and Ife being a glutton.

A/N: Next chapter won’t be out until next due to having a challenge fic due on Sunday and me being a procrastinator yet again. Not sure if my characterization of Tony is the best. Credit for the dividers goes to the amazing @firefly-graphics​.

Series Masterlist

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{{How the fuck did I get here?}}

Ife thought as she finished her morning workout in her customized ‘apartment’ (pocket dimension) at the new Avengers Compound.

One week she was laughing up with Nermin, the next she was in Upstate New York wishing she wasn’t such a ‘good samaritan’. Although she probably should’ve seen this coming.

Ife was flying to visit Nermin in her father’s clan’s town hidden in the Hoia Baicu Forest during her three-day weekend when she spotted the better half of Novi Grad jettison into the atmosphere.

“What the FUCKING HELL! I swear those Avengers cause more harm than good.” She exclaimed remembering the Battle of New York and the debacle in Istanbul with Ironman and the Hulk.

Sighing to herself, Ife raced to Nermin’s place and told her. Luckily, Nermin wanted to help so she teleported both of them a few miles from the city. Once they got in a good position, Nermin got to work removing any and all rubble from the city and surrounding area as well as any that fell off the main chunk. Ife flew up and began blasting the biggest chunks of falling ‘island’.

The strategy was going pretty well...until the floating mass of death decided to free-fall.

Ife saw that Ironman was struggling to keep it from crashing and destroying all life on Earth and decided to hold it up for him. It took a few seconds for her to get her bearing before she pushed it back.

“What’s happening down there, Tony? Tony?!” Steve stressed as the severed city actually STOPPED free-falling and started to rise again. Just about everyone was wondering the same thing.

“I-I don’t know. It looks like someone’s pushing it back up.” Tony staggered as he made his way to the unknown hero.

“Tell your team to get everyone off the city and I’ll take care of the rest!” Ife barked.

Thankfully, Tony did reply with one of his inane remarks and flew to the top just in time to stop Ultron from firing on Hawkeye and Pietro.

Once Tony gave Ife the head’s up, she pushed the city into a portal that Nermin created in the upper atmosphere.

Ife smirked in pride at Nermin’s and her handiwork and flew off thinking that this would be the last heroics for awhile.

  Life said no.

Barely three days after ‘The Sokovia Incident’, Ife heard someone knocking at the apartment door in Portland, Maine. Thinking it was either the kind old lady who lives upstairs or the nerdy guy who was nice but had a huge crush on her, she opened the door only to find Tony Stark with the biggest smirk on his face.

Shit!! Fuck! Fuck! SHIIIIIIIITT!!!!

How did he-?

“You know, it’s not every day someone blows me out of the water,” Tony praised while taking note of Ife’s apartment,” I couldn’t get you out of my head, the smokin’ hot super who saved Sokovia. The rest of the team thought I was joking, except for Thor. A video of you flying off with the severed Novi Grad got them to shut up-”

“And you’re telling me this, why? Also, I doubt Pepper would take kindly to you calling me a ‘smokin’ hot super.’” Ife interjected as Tony motioned to the bracelets on her right wrist.

Insert inner facepalm.

“You were good. F.R.I.D.A.Y. had to work overtime to find anything. Probably angered a ton of tech companies, but it was worth it.”

“Are you going to rat me out to the feds?” Ife inquired as she bit her lower lip fearing the worst.

Tony scoffed, “No. Look, I need you to join the team.”

Ife could hear and feel the emotional echoes of anxiety radiating off him. She felt a little bad for him, but that feeling died a quick death.

“Mr. Stark,“ Ife started to get him to understand. Showoffs love honorifics, “I’m flattered that you would think me a nice addition to the Avengers, but I’ll have to decline.”

There. That should do it.

Tony just smiled softly, “Okay. See ya, gorgeous,” and left.

Why did he give off a slight flare of zeal before leaving?

  Let it be known that Tony Stark is nothing if determined (when he wants to).

It probably took him less than an hour to get Pepper and his acquisition lawyers to look into Ife’s employers, Pinello Inc. Stark Industries bought them out in a hostile takeover two days later.

Nazaret, one of the founders and one of her best friends’ older sister, was in tears when she got the news. What’s worse was that a couple of Stark officials found some of Pinello’s ‘experimental work’, i.e. Magitech and alien tech (Avlenian, not Chitauri). All unapproved companies had to hand over any extraterrestrial materials and tech to the US Government or face prison time (30yrs min) as a result of The Battle of New York.

So Tony offered the founders a deal: he won’t tell the US Government about what he found in exchange for Ife joining the Avengers.

Later that day, Ife was approached by BNA’s Regional Director (New England), Director of the Eastern US Seaboard, US Director of Operations, and the Head of Earth Operations. All of them basically requested (eh, begged) to take Tony’s offer since he was too big and too public to have him ‘handled’.

After the BNA higher-ups left, Ife sighed and called Nazaret stating that she’ll accept Stark’s offer. She smiled forlornly at Nazaret’s tears of joy.

Six hours later, Ife flew to Stark Tower with a contract in hand hoping that this won’t ruin her life.

  {{I could’ve been nicer to the team and staff.}}

Perhaps it was not the wisest course of action to do what she did during her first day as an Avenger.

  First, she refused to talk to Tony on the drive to Upstate New York out of anger and annoyance about being blackmailed into joining. Next, she barely spoke two sentences together despite Captain America’s best efforts (she did feel a little weightless from emotional echoes of kindness, but felt something darker underneath). Falcon suggested that Ife get settled (hate that word) when Tony left for a meeting.

Nat suggested Ife should give the team a better demonstration of her powers and abilities tomorrow (Translation: she could sense the grumpiness and exhaustion in waves).

  Ife had just gotten her ‘apartment’ set up when her traitorous stomach started growling. Her lips curled into a devious smirk.

She got an idea.

“Hey ‘Mira, could send me an order of the ‘Mini Comfort Package’?”

“Ife, don’t scare them.”

“Gulmira, if I wanted to scare them, I would’ve asked for the ‘Diamond Glutton Package’. Nice name, BTW.”

Gulmira giggled, “Thanks. So who’s paying?”

Ife’s smirk grew three sizes that moment, “Just send the bill to Tony Stark. Tell him it’s part of the contract.”

  The order turned out to be two medium-sized delivery trucks packed with: fried chicken, chicken-fried steak w/gravy, mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, lasagna, baby back bbq ribs, honey spiced corn casserole, Beef ribs, various thick meat stews, BBQ chicken, salmon/chicken teriyaki bowls, fruit cobblers, cakes, cookies, and pies; along with four 5-gallon (75.6L total) container jugs of soda and packaged in deliciously edible containers.

The trucks exited a portal about a mile north of the compound 15 minutes later as per Ife’s instructions. Gulmira instructed the drivers to return when Ife gave them a call.

Once the drivers left, Ife gave her voracious tummy a few placating pats and got to work.

  Wanda was going her routine stroll around the compound when she noticed Ife fly off. Curious but respectful of Ife’s privacy, she paid it little mind. It wasn’t until she met up with the rest of the team that she said anything.

“Wait, she left and you’re just telling us now?” Rhodey queried.

“Didn’t think it was a big deal.” Wanda retorted.

“Maybe we should-” Steve started.

“Guys! Come over to the Comms Room stat!” Sam shouted over the Intercoms.

Most of the team thought it was one of Sam’s bets with Charlie, one of the comms staffers, but they paused when Natasha was at the entrance looking a little discombobulated.

“What’s wrong, Nat?” Steve probed.

Natasha just pointed to the main screen and the crowd around it.

“Holy-”

On the screen was Ifekerenma, devouring an ungodly amount of food at an alarming rate.

“Language, Cap,” Sam interjected.

They’re not gonna let that go, huh?

“How has she not burst?! There’s no way a human can-” Dr. Cho started but was cut off by Natasha.

“She was able to hold the severed part of Novi Grad and push it into the upper atmosphere. I don’t think she’s human.”

“This has got to be one of Stark’s most dumbass decisions yet! Bringing in a woman with a black hole for a stomach.” Fury barked as Ife downed one of the soda containers in less than three minutes.

“Look. Let’s see what she can do tomorrow and we’ll make our decision.” Steve proposed.

“Fine.”

  Ife finished her meal at a good, slow pace (for her). After ten minutes of laying on her back and letting out a good number of massive wet belches, she returned to the compound with a wave to the recon drone and straight to her room.

Luckily, she had set up most of her quarters when she received a video-chat invite from some of her friends, Gulmira, Aghavni, Husna, Lakshmi, and Nermin.

“Have you scared them off yet?” Lakshmi asked with a comical smirk.

“Not the team, but I felt a lot of emotional echoes of disgust from the staff.”

“You would think they would be used to it considering who’s on their team.” Aghavni pointed out in reference to Thor and the Hulk.

“I don’t think so, Hav. None of them made any notes about Thor’s full height and abilities and you know what happened to Hulk.” Ife replied as Gulmira shot the group one her knowing smiles.

“I’m guessing you’re still hungry. Playing safe, Ife?”

“You’re one to talk, ‘Mira. But yes, I’m still hungry. Don’t worry I still have food from Avlenia in the kitchen.”

“Putting your near-insatiable appetite aside, when are you going to tell them about your true form and the rest of us?” Husna queried.

“Not sure. I mean, they don’t even know that Thor has kids (or great-grandkids),” Ife sighed, “Maybe soon. It’s only a matter of time before Stark puts two and two together. It’s best to get out ahead of this. And before either of you apologize, I was the one who decided to help them in Sokovia” Ife maintained shutting down any attempts from Aghavni and Nermin.

“Hey, has BNA contacted you since Maine?” Lakshmi wondered.

“They’ll probably call her before the week’s over,” Nermin stated with the rest of the group nodding in agreement.

“So, are any of the Avengers single? The compound perhaps? Asking for a friend.”

“Shine your eye, Lakshmi! I just got here.”

“Really, Lakshmi?”

“Don’t give me that look, Hav.”

“Thank you so much for checking up on me.” Ife beamed.

“No problem, girl. Now rock their world!”

“Okay, ‘Mira.”

“Before I forget. I sent you the outfit you wanted.”

“Thanks, Lakshmi.”

  Not ten minutes after her friends left the chat did she get a call from one of the higher-ups at BNA’s NYC Branch, Eliza Maza.

“Good Evening, Ifekerenma.”

“Hello.”

“I wanted to thank you for your service at Sokovia and now.”

“No problem.”

“I mean it. You saved a lot of people with your decision. Also, you might not win over the Avengers by being sour about this.”

Ife noted her choice of words, but let it slide, “I know, but this isn’t where I saw myself after Kyoto.”

“That’s fair. Although, this could be a net positive.”

“How?”

“You can ease the Avengers and their allies into the Non-Human world. It would be beneficial for Earth’s most high profile figures to be sympathetic to Non-Human struggles. In return, BNA could help the Avengers spruce up their public image.” Eliza explained.

Ife nodded in agreement recalling the anti-super sentiment she’s been feeling through a great deal of humans’ emotional echoes.

“Though I wonder if you already have prior commitments to the UA?” Eliza put forth.

Ife thought about the conversation she had with T’Challa and Nakia two hours after she agreed to join the Avengers.

Eliza offered Ife a small smile, “Try to make the best of it. They could use the help.”

Ife agreed noting their mental and emotional state when she met them earlier.

“Just think about it. Goodnight.”

  After dinner (finally), Ife tried on the outfit Lakshmi made her. She loved the color scheme and design. The suit was practical in that it covered all her bases and it concealed most of her curves (no need to give pervs and the tabloids fodder). The helmet was a newer design that let her upload B.E.B.O.P. into the suit’s system. Its interior was super soft, durable, breathable, and pretty resistant to magic. Plus, it was able to shift with her when she changed from her true height of 10’6” (297.18cm) to 6′ (190.5 cm) and back again. The cherry on top was that appear and disappear on mental or remote command.

 Ife met the team on the outside training grounds and apologizes for her admittedly crass behavior.

Natasha waved it off, “Sam and I made a bet in the Comms Room on how quickly you could finish. Now we’re both $2,500 richer.”

“Could you give us a better demonstration of your powers? Tony was the only one who got to see up close.” Steve asked.

“Sure. Are there any old vehicles that you don’t want?”

“There’s that old Quinjet in the hangar.” Sam offered.

“Thanks. Give me a few seconds.” Ife stated as she flew off and returned with the older Quinjet model (25tons).

She then proceeded to demolish it by tearing the hull with her bare hands, slicing and smashing parts of it with energy construct weapons, and blasting the rest away with her hand blasts.

It was gone in less than five minutes.

The team and Fury stared at her in silence for three minutes until Steve welcomed her to the team.

Vision asked if there were others like her on Earth.

Ife requested that they wait for her in the Conference Room. She entered the room with what she and her friends called, ‘The Basic Bitches Guide to Non-Humans’.

“This will take a while.”

  *-Meanwhile at Stark Tower-*

Tony was finishing up with a meeting that Pepper insisted he attend. He wondered how the team was doing at the compound. He was about to call Steve when F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him of a package from a Miss Gulmira Hendrix in regards to the new recruit.

Tony nearly a bout of shock when he saw the bill. Pepper nearly fainted.

The side note read that it was part of the contract he signed yesterday.

“Clever girl.”

  *-Elsewhere-*

Someone answers their phone.

“Dr. Frost has everything she needs to begin. Zanda and Klaue have found the power core.”

The person thanked the informant and ended the call.

“Well, how will you counter, Prime Minister?”

Next>>

Taglist: @giorno-plays-piano​ @lookiamtrying​ @jtargaryen18​ @sapphirescrolls​ @jobean12-blog​ @sweeterthanthis​ @gotnofucks​ @mculibrary​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @golden-ariess​ @navegandoaciegas​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @tilltheendwilliwrite​ @imanuglywombat​ @bucky-the-thigh-slayer​ @navybrat817​ @anyatheladyclown​ @buckysbunny​ @nacho-bucky​ @donutloverxo​ @stephanieromanoff​ @threeminutesoflife​

[flying-nightwing]

Act II: The Racetrack

Hey guys! I’m not sure I’m entirely satisfied with that one, especially the dialogue feels off. But this is something to drag me out of my writers block so yeah I’m not at optimal capacity. Anyhow, I hope you still enjoy!

Side note, I think this is the fic I used the least italics lmao. Also this is semi edited

Part 1 in Masterlist! 

Part 3 is out now!

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Word count: 3256

Warnings:

 regular amount of violence, language

“Tim”

At the sound of his name, Tim jumped up from his sleep. He had no idea he had even closed his eyes, but there he was, sleeping perfectly still in his chair in front of his open computer. He blinked, looking down to his coffee, then up to Bruce.

“I’ve got a location”

That woke Tim up better. He was suddenly alert and attentive. “Where is it?”

“The Gotham Cup” Bruce replied, showing him two VIP passes to the Nascar race later that day. It made sense now that he said it, as the big crime families would meet there, as each one of them owned a racing team. “It’ll have to be a no cape mission, we’ll have to operate in broad daylight”

Tim nodded with a sigh. He wasn’t a fan of that type of recon, as he’d have to socialize as Tim Drake-Wayne the CEO and answer questions that would distract him from his mission. It also meant potentially dealing with press corps and cameras, which meant he’d have to be extra careful in his recon. At least the attention would be divided between him and Bruce.

“What time?” He asked.

“It starts at two, but the social event is on at one”

Tim looked down to his watch. It was now almost 11:30. He finished his now cold coffee and stood up with yet another sigh. “Guess I’ll have to go make myself presentable, then”

Bruce chuckled, but didn’t add anything more.

---

The sun was high in the sky and the racetrack was buzzing with activity. People with teams’ shirts and caps were mingling around, and the line of the bet counter was stretching all around the building. Tim walked beside Bruce, both of their VIP lanyards hanging from their necks and contrasting with their black dress shirt. They turned heads as they passed the lines and different booths, mostly ignoring the whispers that arose around them. They soon reached the VIP entrance, getting in without having to raise the badge or lower their sunglasses.

It still surprised Tim, even after all this time, the sheer power of the name Wayne. 

They climbed the stairs to the terrasse, where there were considerably less people, and those who were there were dressed in fancy clothes rather than fan gear. There was s soft ambient music playing in the background and plenty of seats under the roof’s shade. The whole place screamed money, yet Tim found it extraordinary bland. 

“You take ten o’clock, I’ll take two” Bruce instructed. “Meet at the bar for the start of the race”

“Got it” Tim nodded, checking his watch. He had exactly one hour and three minutes to try and find out more about which big shot would have beef with city hall. He began walking towards the rail, leaning on and pretending to be interested in whatever the entertainers were doing on the turf in the middle of the track. The seats around were gradually filling with fans who were willing to sit still for hours under the sun to watch cars drive in circles, eating their overpriced hotdogs. Tim didn’t understand the fun in that, but then again, they would probably not understand his idea of fun either.

With a sigh, he pushed himself from the rail and returned to his task. However, he didn’t see the person walking by and bumped into them. “Oh f--” He stopped himself from cursing out loud. “Sorry”

He paused, squinting at the semi familiar face in front of him. You smiled.

“What, no champagne to spill on me this time?” You teased as you recognized the handsome face from the gala the other day. The connection clicked in his eyes as he understood where he saw you before.

“Oh, hi!” He hurried to answer. “Uh, it’s you”

“So I’m told” You chuckled. He wouldn’t have recognized you on the spot, with your wide hat and brighter clothes. At first glance you seemed like a totally different person, but as he took in your features, it was obvious it was you.

He could recognize those memorable traits everywhere.

“So uh, you left before I could talk to you, the other day” He scratched the back of his neck. “I haven’t seen you much around either”

“I’m not from Gotham, so that would be pretty normal” You replied as you leaned on the rail. “I’m only here for a few days”

“Oh?” He asked, suddenly a little more interested. He raised his sunglasses on his head, looking at your directly. “I hope you weren’t too spooked by what went down at the gala”

You tsked, shaking your head. “Poor mayor” You sighed sadly. “It’s terrible what happened. At least no one else was injured. I was terrified when the smoke went off, but I’ll be okay”

He gave you a small, awkward smile. “Glad to hear it”

“So, do you have a name?” You changed the subject.

“Tim” He nodded, then told him your name in return. “Nice to formally meet you”

“Pleasure’s all mine” You gave him a charming smile. “So, what does such a handsome man do in such a place?”

He visibly blushed at your compliment. You could see he was not used to receiving blunt raises like that, but he really was handsome and you had to say it out loud. His bright eyes and sharp features drew you in just as much today as they did a few days back at the gala, where you had desperately wanted to stay and chat for a while before kidnapping the mayor. You still had time to spare today, so you wouldn’t miss your chance now.

“I- uh” He scratched the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. He didn’t seem like someone who would get nervous, but you thought it was cute. “My father, he wanted me to come with him. Publicity stunt I guess. What about you?”

“My cousin is a pilot” You lied easily. “I’m here for support”

“Oh! That’s great” He lifted the corner of his lips into a small smile. “Which car?”

Your expression turned sheepish. “... 43? 34?” You tried. “Something with a 4. I don’t know! I don’t follow the sport at all”

He chuckled. “Here for the free cocktails?”

“Guilty” You gave him a complicit grin. “Honestly my family just said ‘hey, let’s go to Gotham for the Nascar cup!’ and I followed because why not”

“I get it” He nodded as you began walking around side by side. He was more relaxed now, his hands in his pockets and his head tilted toward you. “My family does that all the time too. If one wants to go somewhere, usually the bunch follows”

“You have siblings?”

“Yeah” He grinned. “Four brothers and one sister, and I’m the middle child”

“Oh wow” You blinked. “How do you even deal with this?”

“By outsmarting them at every turn” He replied with a sarcastic sigh. “That and arming myself with enough information to blackmail them into doing my shit”

You laughed, throwing your head back slightly. You didn’t know, but his heart skipped a beat at the simple action. He thought it sounded like the sweetest melody he wouldn’t mind hearing again. “Sounds like a good survival strategy” You said. “So, you’re the smart one, eh?”

“I think I’ll go ahead and take this one” He nodded after a small pause. “You have no idea how low the bar is”

You laughed again, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It sounds like a lot to deal with” 

“Do you have any siblings?”

You were walking slow around the outside part of the VIP lounge, under the sun. Clouds were coming and going, giving you intermittent moments of shade. It really was a nice day outside. You looked down. “No, not really”

You could feel his eyes on you, but it wasn’t harsh. Just curious, like he didn’t want to pry and ask. However, he had a gaze that seemed to see through everything at that moment, and you really didn’t want him to see through the half lies you built to avoid the truth. 

“I was adopted” You admitted, looking back up to him. That wasn’t a lie.

“Oh” He blinked a few times in surprise. “So was I”

Your eyebrows raised at his quick answer. You half expected the bundle of invasive questions that usually came with it, but at that moment it was clear he wouldn’t require further explanations. You were glad he understood.

“We already have more in common that I would have expected” You smiled sweetly. “I’m glad we bumped into each other again”

“Y-yeah, me too” He nodded with a timid smile this time, like that little shy front took over again. You deducted it returned when you made a move on him so far, but he didn’t seem to dislike it either. 

“Maybe we--” You paused when you caught a glimpse of the time on the giant board on the other side of the track. If you kept going on like this you’d miss your window. Shit shit shit. “Oh shoot”

“What’s wrong?”

You recomposed yourself and gave him an apologetic smile instead of straight up bolting away. “I told my mother I’d be down by the pits for the beginning of the race, she’s going to start calling me non stop soon”

His face dropped slightly in disappointment. “Oh, yeah, maybe you shouldn’t worry her”

“Sorry, Tim” You pouted, before lifting your finger and going to the nearest bistro table, and took a napkin from the fancy display. You then snatched a pen from a man walking by, ignoring his protests, and you wrote your number on the fragile material. yOu handed back the pen without looking at the angry man and went back to Tim, who had an amused expression on his face. “Here”

“Thanks” The smile returned on his lips as he glanced down quickly at the digits.

“Call me sometimes, yeah?” You winked, walking backwards. He lifted the napkin and nodded, then you were gone.

As you jogged down the secondary staircase, you forced yourself to put Tim at the back of your mind. There was no rule in your contracts to regulate your private life, but it was obvious you couldn’t let anything get in the way of your mission. You got down to the pits and sneaked in a small storage room, where a change of clothes was waiting for you. You pulled off the stupid hat and took off your clothes to change into a tight black suit and a holster belt for your gun and the roll of duct tape at the bottom of the bag. You finally pulled the black helmet as the finishing touch and got out undetected.

You returned into the pits like nothing, blending with the flow of people gradually becoming more important as you got closer to the garage #29. You really looked no different from the staff with darker suits, only missing the sponsors patches. Behind your visor you spotted the driver you were looking for, seemingly arguing with a blonde girl and walking away, throwing his hands in the air.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect.

You followed him as he watched intensely his cellphone, going somewhere quiet. He paused in a corner away from prying eyes, typing quickly. You stepped in front of him and waited a few seconds until his eyes lifted up to you.

“What the fuck do you want?” He grumbled. “Go back to work”

“If you’re asking so nicely” You said, pointing your gun at him as you dropped your bag on the floor. 

“Yo what the f--” 

You used his momentarily surprise to side step him and sneak an arm around his neck. He trashed in your hold until he went limp. You let him drop on the floor and began undoing his suit, pulling it off with a few difficulties when the limbs were concerned. You then slipped it on and bound the driver at the wrists and ankles, then taped his mouth and threw the roll on him. You returned to the pits, ignoring people who tried to talk to you, including the blonde from earlier. You went straight for the car and slipped in, only waiting for the crew chief to place one last word before you headed for the start line, getting into your designed position. As the other cars joined the start grid as well, you warmed up your tires like the rest of the pilots around you. You observed the commands of the car, making sure you hadn’t forgotten a function since your quick training in nascar driving. 

Soon enough, the lights turned green. You didn’t hurry like some cars, you opted to lay low in the main platoon. You would avoid getting attention to yourself that way. You especially chose an average team to hijack, so nobody would expect you to be leading or trailing behind. You made sure to spot your target a few cars in front of you; a bright orange car with the number 12 painted in blue. 

The pilot was your target. He was one of Gotham’s influential men, drawing attention with his sudden philanthropy gestures and involvement in city politics. He liked to flash his money out, and that apparently went through buying an entire nascar team and racing as the pilot as well. But his fervent support for Batman and his bunch of vigilantes got him a big red dot on the forehead by other influential characters of Gotham. Falcone did not appreciate the support for his enemy. 

You counted your laps, getting closer to the 34th. You launched your offensive, accelerating and taking your curves more towards the center. You swerved around cars to come head to head on the right of 12, taking your gun from the inside of your suit. You rested the nozzle on your elbow to stabilize your aim, then waited out the curve. As soon as the track hit the straight line, you shot three bullets in his neck and retreated your gun again. You saw the body fall back into the seat, the car losing control and crashing in another one. 12 went up in the air, flipping several times before the yellow flag went out. 

The medical staff hurried to the accident, and you knew they’d soon see the bullets and stop the race. So when the pits came into view, you got in. Staff were flagging you off, yelling at you in confusion as to your presence there. You only accelerated, knocking equipment as you went. You pulled the hand brakes to realize a 90° turn into the garages. People jumped out of your way as you escaped by the pits and to the outside of the stadium. You drove into several metal fences until you ended up in the fan zone. Only the security was there, but they were on foot or on segways, so they didn’t stand a chance. You tore through the Cup banner and drove straight for the highway. 

Drivers honked as you speeded by them, heading for the city before the police helicopters could spot you. The buildings would provide you with a much needed cover, even if the risk of you crashing would be greater with significantly more obstacles. As you entered the first shadow of the skyscrapers, you took an exit ramp to Chinatown. You accelerated in the traffic, rolling on the sidewalks and knocking down trash cans as you went. You crossed through five just-turned red lights, causing one small pile up at the junction of one of the big avenues. You knew the helicopter was hovering somewhere close, and the police began tailing you once you entered Gotham Lower. However, the motorcycles were no match for a Nascar grade car. 

However, you knew the game was on when you heard something being thrown onto your door and denting in the metal. A pointy end got through, and immediately, you knew what it was: Batman had entered the game. You were surprised he’d show up in the daylight. 

You were even more surprised when you noticed it wasn’t in fact Batman, but his pupil in red. He was on an unmarked motorcycle with a black helmet, trailing slightly behind so you couldn’t shoot him with a good aim through the window. So instead, you took a series of sharp turns in hope you could shake him off, as you didn’t have a rocket launcher to deter him from following you this time. You ended up in the Diamond District, where you decided to change your strategy. If he wanted a piece of you, he could have it. 

You made a last turn into a dead end alley, then made a U-turn and waited at the end. Soon enough, you saw Red Robin pull up at the other end. He put a foot down as he came to a halt, no doubt staring at you through the tinted visor of his helmet. You revved the engine a few times, your foot pressing on the gas pedal in controlled movements. He leaned on the bike, ready to accept your challenge.

Before he could prepare too much, you shifted gear and took off, clouding the brick wall behind you with smoke from your tires. He pushed the bike straight and accelerated too as you drove toward each other full speed. You were about to start a manoeuvre, but had to abort as three shurikens shattered your windshield. You stopped at the other end and faced him again, before punching your what remained of your windshield. Immediately after, you speeded toward him again. This time however, you didn’t leave him time to take out weapons. You deployed the emergency brake and gave a tug left to your steering wheel, making the rear of your car tracing an arch. Red Robin deducted your intention last second, and had to swerve into the pile of trash bags so as to not get violently reaped. You took the opportunity to drive off back into the streets, where the police presence had quadrupled and the traffic cleared. 

But you had a plan for that too.

As if on cue, two identical cars to yours pulled out from garages on both your sides. You changed formation, placing yourselves one after the other and changing the order every two intersections. When you felt like you had confused the police enough, you drove into an underground garage, forcing the police to slow down. You however, cruised over the speed bump without a hassle. After a tight, 180 degrees turn, you slipped into a side unit, where a member of your team closed the door right after. You stopped the car and heard the police fly by, holding your breath. Then, silence fell. You pulled off your helmet, then slipped out of the car through the window.

You took the phone your team member handed you, pressing the first and only number saved.

“It’s me” You spoke up when the other end picked up. “It’s done”

“Great work, (Y/N). Meet back at the corner of sixth and 24th” 

“Copy that” You replied and hung up, letting the phone fall on the ground and crushing it with your boot. You caught the bag with your change of clothes, slipping out of the suit and putting on the clothes to blend in outside. 

You sneaked out of the garage, regaining the busy streets of Gotham with a smirk.

[tisfan]

Prompt list 94. “Oh fuck it, will you marry me?” WinterIron. Pretty please !

Title: Somebody that I Used to Know Written by: 3023 @tisfan Square: T3 – Phone Sex Rating: Teen and Up Triggers/warnings:  no archive warnings apply Tags: Make-up Fic, Tony Stark has a Heart, post break up, texting your ex, references to phone sex Created for: @tonystarkbingo Word count: 1,547

Prompt: Fuck it, will you marry me?

Bucky Barnes wasn't sure when Brooklyn had become a stranger to him. When he didn't quite feel welcome anymore. That he didn't belong.

Too many changes, maybe. Not the superficial ones, like that bookstore being a cafe and the Wash-a-teria boarded over, or a new Bodega on the corner. But the changes to Bucky.

It's a two week job, he told himself. Two weeks and he'd go home again. This empty hotel room and looking over the skyline… being in the same city with him. 

Of course, if Bucky hadn't been stalking his ex on social media for months now, he wouldn't know that. Not for certain. He took out his phone, considering the idea of ordering take away from their favorite place. New York was always going to remind him of Tony.

God, those had been some good times. Fucking great times, really. He remembered their last fight, when they decided it just wasn’t going to work, they were done. Bucky needed to make something of himself, get out from under Tony’s shadow, and Tony was insisting that Long Distance could work, but then he kept getting swamped with SI stuff and not coming out to visit, and it just wasn’t fucking worth it. The heartache and disappointment. But man, he’d loved the hell out of that man. No one else in the last few years had come even half as close. 

He scrolled through his contacts. He had a new phone, but he always just transferred everything to the new device. He flicked the screen a little harder than he meant and the list scrolled way past Knish Nosh and Stark, Tony was there on the screen.

He probably didn't even have the same number anymore. Or wouldn't know who Bucky was. New phone, who dis. New life, do I even know you?

Thinking about getting Potato Knish. You hungry?

He hesitated and then hit send. 

Tony probably wouldn't even answer him. 

Good. It was probably for the best. 

His phone buzzed. New text from Stark, Tony. 

Am now.

Bucky? It's been ages. How TF you been?

Bucky was just starting to type in a reply when his phone rang. Stark, Tony.

“Hey,” Bucky said, trying not to put too much meaning into it. It wasn’t a shoulder touch and a lean in and bedroom eyes, Hey. It was just a hey, how are you? That kind of hey. 

“Are you close enough to actually get knish?” Tony was talking really fast, tripping over his words like he was scared he wouldn’t have time to get them out. 

“They certainly haven’t got knish in Indiana,” Bucky said. “Yeah, I’m in the city for a few weeks, on a job.”

“Oh,” Tony said, and there was a lot of weight in that oh. What did oh mean, Bucky wondered. Oh, as in that’s good to know, or-- “A few weeks, yeah, that’s good, that’s good. I mean, not-- I mean, you’ll be in the city for a few more days?”

Bucky’s eyebrow went up. So typical. “Let me guess, you’re out of town for some SI thing and--”

“Yeah, you know, it’s a thing,” Tony said hastily, instead of trying to make excuses, which is what he usually did. “I’m on the plane right now, as a matter of fact, gotta love that inflight wifi. Hey, do you remember, back when I was on that trip in Beijing and the wifi cut out right when we were having the most incredible phone sex?”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, and it was a bitter sort of laugh, because that had been the beginning of the end. He wouldn’t be so shallow as to say that being left hanging had been the whole reason, just that it was a symptom of the problem. And the problem was, Tony was never there. Which just made it easier for Bucky to leave. “Yeah, I remember.” But Tony had come home, and taken a whole week off, despite the fact that his personal assistant had been screaming about it, just to spend it with Bucky, to be there for his sister’s birthday.

Huh. Bucky’d sort of forgotten about that, really. 

“Well, you know, it’s not knish,” Tony offered, “but I could entertain you, I bet. Those were the days weren’t they, Bucky? I’ve been thinking about you recently, glad you texted. You know?”

Tony Stark had been thinking about Bucky? “Phone lines go both ways,” Bucky said. “You could have dropped me a line.”

“Yeah, no, I didn’t think I wanted to hear you hang up on me,” Tony said. “In case I was just somebody you used to know.”

Bucky swallowed an absurd lump of guilt. “I would never,” he lied. It was a lie, because he didn’t know if he would have, back when they first broke up. But he had never, so it was still sort of the truth. “I-- I never hated you, Tony, you know that, right?”

“I know,” Tony said, and it was wistful and sad, and a little like Han Solo going into carbonite. God, Bucky was such a nerd. 

Tony was, too.

“I missed you,” Tony said.

“Yeah, I missed you, too,” Bucky admitted. He had. “It-- Indiana wasn’t… I mean it wasn’t bad, you know. But-- it wasn’t you. I… okay. When will you be back in the city? You want to get knish with me?”

“I would love to,” Tony said. “Um, Thursday? I think I’ll be back on Thursday.”

“I can do Thursday.”

“Great, I’ll call you with details,” Tony said. “I-- I mean, I’ll see you then.”

Was Tony going to say “I love you”? 

And if he was, did he mean it, or was it just leftover muscle memory from when they had signed off their calls with I love you.

“I know.”

*

“Not that I’m not glad to see you,” Tony said, looking up from his phone, “but--”

Bucky threw the paper down onto the hospital bed, along with a bundle of cheap, sidewalk-seller flowers. The petals went everywhere in a storm. “Business trip?”

Well, Pepper had tried to keep it out of the papers, but apparently someone with a telephoto lens had gotten him as he went into the hospital.

“It’s what we were telling everyone,” Tony said. “Stock takes a hit if I’m not fit and fantastic, which seems unfair to me, but SI employees thousands, maybe even tens of thousands of people, and if the stock tanks too much, then the board starts hounding me for layoffs.”

“You could have died,” Bucky said. With those dramatic eyes and his penchant for hyperbole, not to mention the sort of face that wrecked a thousand ships, Tony always wondered why his boyfriend -- ex, ex boyfriend -- hadn’t gone into modeling. Or acting. 

“But I didn’t, and now I have a brand new tricuspid valve, and everything’s going to be fine. Assuming you don’t kill me,” Tony added.

Bucky threw himself down in the guest chair. He probably regretted that immensely, since Tony knew they weren’t very comfortable. “How long did you know?”

Tony didn’t try to play dumb. “That I had heart problems? About two years, now.”

Right before Bucky had left. He watched Bucky come to that conclusion.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Honey, you-- you were leaving anyway, you wanted your dream and your career, and what sort of an asshole would I be if I made you stay here just because--”

“You were dying?” Bucky glanced at him, his entire heart in his eyes. “Tony, you could have told me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” Tony tried. It wasn’t a good attempt. He’d let Bucky leave. Practically driven him off, really, not wanting to be that guy, not wanting to spend the rest of their time wondering if Bucky was being nice because he wanted to, or because Tony was sick. Not wanting to emotionally blackmail the man he loved.

And, to be honest, wanting to make the break easier for Bucky. Didn’t want to leave him alone and mourning, if that happened. Tony had never been very good at that sort of thing. 

“You asshole,” Bucky said.

“Well-established,” Tony agreed. “Look, I just--”

“I love you,” Bucky said. “I… you were putting the company ahead of me, that’s what I thought, and I know… I know your job is important, baby, but. All I wanted was to be first, and you-- you let me leave you when you were dying?”

“I’m not dying now,” Tony pointed out. “And I was going to meet you for knish on Thursday and tell you. I think I should get credit for that. I-- I just wanted… if it worked, if we could make it work, I wanted to be sure. I didn’t want you staying because I was smothering you.”

“Breathing free air in Indiana is not that damn important, Tony,” Bucky said. “I’ll quit, I’ll come home, whatever you want--”

“What?”

“Fuck it, will you marry me?” Bucky asked, then, because it was Bucky, and Tony, he added, “dumbass.”

“It’s pronounced Dumas.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” It was probably stupid and impulsive and rash, self-destructive and textbook narcissism. “I think-- I think we’ll be all right.” 

[ryttu3k]

Already finished Coteries of New York, so on to Shadows of New York! I’ve seen the first bit in an LP, at least, but the bulk of the story will be new. This will have two playthroughs, one for each ending, since at least it has them XD First up - the ‘good’ ending!

Oh dang I like the music.

Julia is a bit on the edgy/cynical side XD

Yeah, she’s got a shit deal :-\ And what’s worse is that it’s all planned out.

Interesting note - at Lodestar, there were shadowy figures in the background, but you could rationalise it as people on the other side of the windows. On the train, you only see the shadowy features, and it’s otherwise empty, so no obvious figures casting them...

I guess if you choose the ‘don’t shoot’ option, Julia gets drained and it’s an early game over?

God that Embrace scene is intense. I got goosebumps!

Spirits, huh? Oh yeah, Obtenebration became Oblivion and is now connected with necromancy, IIRC?

I’m glad she had a good few nights XD;;

Valerie Duval, she was... the scourge in CoNY hunting down the Red Hook killer?

Nice to meet you, ‘Katherine Wiese’ XD

Cool ponytail, Qadir! I really dig the relationship between him and Julia, it’s fun. ‘sup Aisling, how’s Agathon? A blood hunt, really? Y O U. Okay yeah probably better for Julia’s long-term survival for Arturo to ignore her XD;; Samira’s so pretty. Ooh this guy is Hope’s sire, yeah?

“You wanted to hear about which member of New York City's Camarilla I dislike the most?"

"Yes?"

"Too bad. They're all my dear colleagues, and I deeply respect every single one of them."

"Sure you do. Wouldn't want to blurt out something that could lock you out of Mr Vanderweyden's legal services, would you, you ass-kisser?"

"I do expect to find myself in need of a good defense attorney when my broke, incompetent, and foul-mouthed assistant finally pushes me over the edge."

THEMST.

Benoit hi!! “Got any news about Sophie Langley?” *sharp intake of breath* Benoit backstory, that’s rad. I wonder if it’ll be uncovered in-game? Like we know Arturo is still around, Panhard is still around. Presumably Adelaide Davis is still around. Callihan... well, I know what happens to him. I think Torque ditches the scene before Sophie dies?

Father Leonard seems like a good sort. I wonder what his deal is?

Dakota is adorable. I’m going to do the ‘good’ end first even though I know it’ll make me feel horrible, but dangit, the ‘bad’ end is totally going to be my canon.

...Vin Diesel? XD

DING DONG THE DOUCHE IS DEAD. ...Deader than usual, I mean.

jfc Panhard that is pretentious as hell. Both the party description and the costume, actually XD Qadir’s mask is kind of funky. Oh my god Arturo you are a Toreador is that the best you can come up with?! Nice horns, Aisling.

...Thought, given their clans, Samira/Aisling could be interesting as hell.

Man, Arturo and Panhard must be pissed off XD Unless they’ve already picked their replacement stooge?

And here’s where the plot starts! Hey, isn’t that the priest’s house? Ohh, they’re meant to be meeting with Mia. I guess they’re just reusing assets.

“It’s a list of four names. ‘D’Angelo. Hope. Agathon. Tamika.’“ *SHARP INTAKE OF BREATH* Okay, that could be the list Sophie gave the fledgling. Which one did Callihan get it from?

Oh criminy Dakota don’t tell me you’re into that Q-Anon shit XD;; Ooh okay that makes more sense. Neat.

Ahhh man I was hoping to get a lead and instead Julia has to punish this poor fuck XD;; Yeesh. Okay, Bunny as a Reporter it is, then.

Almost run over by a limo, huh? *chinstroke*

Oooh this is the lead to Hope! Yeah, I’d say she has a connection with a Montgomery XD Wonder if she did end up eating her? Huh, contact used LeakyGutSyndrome... didn’t Hope end up having to retire that one, or was it the other one? Let’s just... Dominate this guy. Sorry dude it’s for your own good.

Agathon’s missing? :( Damn, he’s like one of the only decent Tremere. Oho, a diary! Oh sweetheart :( Oh, Silvia died :( Damn, interesting past, though... and a reference to CoNY again.

Fucking shadows, I literally glanced over my shoulder.

S C H E M E S. And yeah, looks like I’m on my way to the ‘good’ end :-\

Oh shit, Adelaide or.... whatshisname, Kaiser’s dude? Oooh man who to meet first... Kaiser’s dude. Oh. That was a bit anticlimactic XD

On to see Hope at Double Spiral. I think this is one of those choices that leads to one of the endings, so what’s more ruthless and Camarilla... busting in it is.

Nastya isn’t having a good night, is she XD;; Also Hope’s suit is badass.

...huh. Sounds like she’s actually managed to get shit sorted decently XD

Interesting... the coterie members were a list of heroes for hire that multiple people had, including Sophie. Well, that widens the scope a bit! Anonymous information broker, shall I assume that’s Kaiser? OH. No, it’s her sire!

“The story going around is, he left me alone and I hate his guts. Well, at least half of that is true.” Which half, though...

Aww man I wish I had saved some of those websites! I miss SciFiVine...

You know, I’m not 100% sure Carter’s the murderer (my main suspect is Arturo at this point tbh) but damn, the bit about Stern’s show kinda makes me want to slap him anyway XD;;

Queer Catholic blues, huh :-\

“Haven’t you noticed what’s going on in the news? People are going absolutely insane about this virus, cancelling trips and orders and --” Ahh. We’re in that 2020 XD;;

Okay the scene with the kid meeting his girlfriend was cute but then spooky time?? jfc was that the Abyss?!

Ooooh did she just find Tamika solely by accident? Thanks, Abyss XD I love how Julia’s first response is ‘shit, she’s hot’. And she took out a whole SI squad herself? Nice. Calebros mention! Huh, so the SI are maintaining the status quo... they became an issue because the Camarilla tried to sic them on the Anarchs and Sabbat and it backfired, maybe it actually succeeded here?

Ooh, a history with Torque. Neat. Also not sure with the art, but are those tattoos on Tamika’s arm, or fur? I mean, Gangrel beast marks and all.

Sorry Torque I’m just trying to get the ‘good’ end :(

Mention of the fledgling! Officially ‘disappeared’, that leaves it fairly ambiguous at this point.

Oof. The Circulatory System are... not cool. And yeah Julia’s just been called tf out, I do look forward to this scene in the ‘bad’ end XD;;

COVID strikes back. The Big Beat Burger is closed :( Charlie is sweet, at least! I hope his mom is okay.

Well that rat bit was weird. Hi D’Angelo! Oh my god blood doll rats? Drunk blood doll rats?! Still a damn good detective, though, that’s good shit. On to Kaiser and some answers! ...Yeah, okay, he’s a prime suspect too.

Kaiser, you are a deeply unpleasant person :-\

...good to know pepper spray still works. And, uh, probably satisfying to beat him up XD;; And yeah, there’s the last choice for the ‘good’ ending. Sorry dude.

...huh. Okay, I was at least partially right XD;; Oh Qadir, not you too :-\

Well that’s a bit... weird of Dakota, yes.

lmao oh Benoit you absolute mess. Religion as A E S T H E T I C XD I have a theory he’s from Michael’s line and I also quite sincerely believe that Michael would take one look at him and bitchslap him into the next millennium. He’s a Path follower, isn’t he?

Father Leonard is okay. I wonder who the ‘friend’ is?

This is very Agatha Christie, revealing the killer in the midst, except I have the horrible feeling Qadir’s going to go with ‘it was suicide’ and not ‘it was everyone’.

Denouement! Before it ends, Julia’s traits:

Loyal only to myself

Glass half-empty

A little abuse of power never hurt nobody

You can’t be a writer and not lie

The ends justify the means (duh)

Honestly she may have just blackmailed her way into power, set up Carter to take the fall, and sent poor Dakota to final death, but the drama was impeccable XD Good luck not ending up in the Abyss, Julia!