#the seven deadly enemies of man

[evilhorse]

Look. It’s your to-do list.

(Batman/Superman: World’s Finest #25)

[dcbinges]

The Power of Shazam! (1994) by Jerry Ordway

[keewu]

Pffft, what do you mean I'm getting unhealthely obsessed with a ship that has little to no content at all

Couldn't be me

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

Oh would you look at that! The specific symbols for the Sins thanks to Shazam movie pins!

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Bad Day at Black Rock | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: panic attack/PTSD, recovering from a sexual assault (HEED THESE WARNINGS ESPECIALLY FOR THIS CHAPTER), canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 6673

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

“What?!” you exclaimed. “She’s a demon, and you didn’t gank her?!”

Sam had just finished telling you and Dean about this Ruby girl he’d met. 

“No, (Y/N), I mean, she seemed pretty helpful on the Seven Deadlies case.”

“Wait, she’s the blonde chick?!” you realized. “Why the fuck would a demon help me?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered. “That’s what I’m trying to understand, too. And if she helped us then, I don’t see why I shouldn’t have at least listened to what she had to say.”

“Because ‘demon,’ that's why,” Dean snapped angrily. “I mean, the second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon, you go for the holy water! You don't chat!”

“No one was chatting, Dean,” Sam huffed.

“Oh yeah? Then why didn't you send her ass back to Hell?”

“Because she said she might be able to help us out!”

“With what, though, Sam,” you chimed in. “You’ve never said how she’s supposed to be able to help us. Or with what.”

“She told me she could help Dean,” Sam said quietly.

Dean seemed to not understand.

“With the crossroads deal, I’m assuming,” you told him.

Sam nodded.

The older brother looked at Sam incredulously. “What is wrong with you, huh? She's lying, you gotta know that, don't you? She knows what your weakness is; it's me.” Dean paused for a second. “What else did she say?”

Sam was quiet again.

You and Dean leaned in expectantly. “Dude?” the older brother questioned.

“Nothing. Nothing, Okay?!” Sam snapped. “Look, I'm not an idiot, guys. I'm not talking about trusting her, I'm talking about using her. I mean, we're at war, right? And we don't know jack about the enemy. We don't know where they are; we don't know what they're doing. I mean, hell, we don't know what they want. Now, this Ruby girl knows more than we will ever find out on our own. Now, yes, it's a risk, I know that, but we need to take it.”

“You're okay right, I mean you're feeling okay?” Dean asked.

Sam huffed. “Yes I'm fine. Why are you always asking me that?”

You looked between the two brothers when a phone began ringing. You checked your pockets; no buzzing. Sam and Dean’s phones weren’t ringing either. 

“Check the glove box, it's Dad's,” Dean suddenly realized.

“Dad’s?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, I keep it charged up in case any of his old contacts call.”

‘Smart boy,’ you thought.

Sam opened the glove box and found the ringing phone. “Hello? Yes... this is Edgar Casey… No! No, no, no, don't – don't call the police, I'll handle this myself. Thanks. You know, can you just uh, can you just lock it back up for me? Great. Uhm, I- I uh, I don't have my - my book in front of me—” Sam gestured to you for a pen, which you quickly handed to him— “do you- do you have the address so I can... Sure, okay. Go ahead. Right, thanks a lot.” He then hung up and turned to Dean. “Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place?”

“What?” Dean asked.

“Outside of Buffalo?”

The older brother shook his head. “No way.”

“Yeah. And someone just broke into it.”

***

“No demons allowed,” Sam noted upon entering his father’s storage container. A large Devil’s Trap was etched into the ground, and two sets of bloody footprints traveled right through it. 

“Check this out,” Dean said, stooping to hold up a tripwire. It was attached to a shotgun hidden in a large animal skull. 

“Whoever broke in here got tagged,” Sam said.

“I got two sets of boot treads here,” you announced, “looks like it was a two-man job. And Buckshot Boy looks like he kept walking.” You nodded toward the bloody footprint trail leading into the container.

“So, what's the deal?” Sam wondered aloud. “Dad would do work here or something?”

“Living the high life, as usual,” Dean quipped.

The three of you crept around John’s storage locker, and the two brothers chatted about how much of a mystery their father still was to them. You took in the varying types of clutter. To your surprise, the room was filled with old memorabilia; photo albums, a graduation cap and gown you assumed was Sam’s, and a few boxes whose contents were written on the outside of them in a woman’s handwriting you assumed belonged to Mary. 

You smiled at a trophy on a shelf nearby. “Check it out,” you said, picking it up and dusting it off. “Sam Winchester, 1995,” you read aloud, “Soccer Division Championship.”

Sam grinned and came over to you. “No way! I can't believe he kept this.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled lopsidedly, “it was probably about the closest you ever came to being a boy.” He wandered over to another table with a shotgun laid on it. “Oh, wow! It's my first sawed-off. I made it myself. Sixth grade.” The older brother laughed and pumped the dusty shotgun.

“You made that?” you questioned.

“Not bad, eh?” he grinned excitedly.

“No, not at all,” you giggled. “Damn, dude.” You took the gun from him and inspected it, impressed with Dean’s craftsmanship. He smiled proudly at you.

“Guys, over here,” Sam said. You followed his voice over to a door to a back room. The chain on the door had been cut, and you cautiously made your way inside.

You waved your flashlight around the room to find varying weapons and lockboxes that no doubt held nasty supernatural objects.

“Holy crap. Look at this,” Dean called, “he had land mines. Which they didn't take. Or the guns. I guess they knew what they were after, huh?”

You took in the lockboxes on the shelf on the far wall. “This is binding magic,” you pointed out. “Curse boxes.”

“Curse boxes?” Dean questioned. “They're supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right? Kinda like the Pandora deal?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, they're built to contain the power of the cursed object.”

“Well, Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, y'know? Dangerous hexed items, fetishes. He never did say where they ended up,” Dean added.

“Must be his sulfur-sludge dump,” you joked. You noticed a rectangular-shaped hole in the dust that had settled over the shelf. “Well, they found what they were looking for.”

“Great,” Sam groaned.

“Well, maybe they didn't open it,” Dean suggested optimistically. 

“Cute thought, but I’m sure they did,” you replied flippantly. You looked around the exterior of the storage unit for anything that could be of use to you; footprints, tire tracks, and… aha! A security camera.

“That’s helpful,” you noted, pointing up at it. 

The boys helped you fish the SD card out of the security camera, and you hooked it up to your computer. 

“There, license plate,” you noted. “And now…” you pulled up an alternate tab and copied the license plate number into it. Immediately, pages began scrolling of places the license plate had been seen at. Most recently, an apartment not too far from you. 

“Ta-da,” you announced childishly, and the brothers looked at you in shock.

“Jesus, (Y/N), how’d you get access to all this?” Sam asked.

“Oh, y’know,” you smirked, trailing off. 

Sam looked at you expectantly. 

“Same way any hackers do,” you shrugged. “Had this guy on the hook for a bit when I was, maybe, twenty. Found out he was an FBI agent in the cyber unit— not the brightest of the bunch— and I phished his computer. Of course, as soon as I did, the computer broke and shut down. Told him I was good with computers and could fix it for him, and then, I cut and run. Fixed the laptop up and had access to everything he had access to. Exported it to my laptop, ditched his somewhere in Arizona, and here we are.”

“That is…” Dean trailed off, “incredibly hot.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile. 

“Get a room,” Sam mumbled, moving over to the Impala.

***

You and the Winchesters crept into the apartment belonging to the drivers of the stolen Connecticut vehicle, guns drawn. You could hear two men chattering about their poker game, and then you finally burst into the room on Dean’s nod.

“Freeze, freeze! Nobody move!” he commanded.

“He said don’t fucking move!” you ordered, pinning the bandaged, redheaded man to his seat with your gun.

“What is this?” the other man questioned.

“Stop!” Sam demanded. 

“Alright, give us the box. And please tell me that you didn't–”

Sam cut Dean off. “Oh, they did.”

“You opened it?!” Dean grunted. He shoved the dark-haired man against the wall.

“Are you guys cops?!” the man pinned wondered.

“What was in the box?” Dean questioned angrily.

You noticed a rabbit’s foot on the edge of the table. ‘Oh, fuck,’ you thought. 

“Oh, was that it, huh?” Dean laughed coldly. “It was, wasn't it? What is that thing?”

The man used Dean’s distraction to knock the gun out of his hand. When it fell to the floor, it fired, and you had to drop to the floor to avoid being hit in the face by the bullet.

The bullet ricocheted off the radiator and hit Sam’s gun, and he dropped it. The same bullet somehow ricocheted and hit a lamp, breaking it. You dove across the floor, trying to grab Sam’s gun, and the redheaded man pushed Sam down on top of you.

“The fuck, Sam?!”

“Sorry!”

You scrambled toward the redhead, and he backhanded you, somehow knocking you off balance and sending you to the floor. You normally wouldn’t have been so thrown off by such a simple move, but that rabbit’s foot was definitely working its magic. 

“Dean, I got it!” Sam announced. You turned around to see him holding the rabbit’s foot.

“Fuck, Sam, no!” you cried upon seeing him holding the cursed object.

The dark-haired man moved forward holding Dean’s favored gun and cocked it in his face. The man pulled the trigger in Sam’s face, but the gun jammed. 

‘Thank god.’

A quick scuffle ensued in which the two men opposing you had a bookshelf fall on them and a carpet got wrapped around their ankles and tripped them. Both men knocked themselves out, and Dean laughed triumphantly.

“That was a lucky break!”

“No, not lucky!” you shrieked. “Sam, that’s a rabbit’s foot!”

“Uh, yeah?” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?” you panicked. 

“No, what are you—”

“I’m calling Bobby,” you said, storming out of the apartment and back to the Impala. 

“Whoa, whoa, why? I’m not seeing how this is a bad thing, (Y/N),” Dean countered, catching up to you. 

“Because that’s a rabbit’s foot, Dean! A cursed object! Its literal function is to bring bad luck,” you explained.

“How?” Sam asked. 

“Once you touch it, you’re marked. Luck’s gonna be on your side.”

“Better buy some lottery tickets then,” Dean chuckled excitedly.

You glared at him. “But if you lose it, you’re fucked. It’ll keep bringing you bad luck till it eventually kills you.”

“Well, I just won’t lose it, then,” Sam tried. 

“Everybody loses it, Sam! That’s the whole point!”

The two boys looked slightly shaken; Sam more so than Dean. Dean was laughing all the way to the bank on this one, and he dragged you and Sam to a gas station to get lottery scratch-off tickets. Then, he drove you to a restaurant chain location called Biggerson’s for some dinner. 

You sat on the phone with Bobby, the two of you angrily muttering about the insanity of the situation to each other.

“Gotta say, kid,” Bobby started, “was hoping the next time I heard from ya, it’d be on happier terms than this.”

“Trust me, me too,” you sighed. “Do you know of anything that can stop this?”

“I’ll dig around—”

Bobby’s voice in your ear was cut off by Dean triumphantly exclaiming, “twelve-hundred dollars! You just won twelve-hundred dollars!”

You grimaced and put the phone back to your ear.

“I’m guessing Sam’s luck’s still good,” Bobby drawled.

“For now, but I don’t know for how much longer.” You got out of the car, suddenly feeling suffocated in the Impala. You paced around, as did Sam, and you watched as he walked over to something glistening under a newspaper on the ground. 

“I’ll figure somethin’ out. Lemme look through my library and make some calls,” Bobby said. “Call me if anything else goes to shit.”

You laughed, and Sam stood up holding a golden watch. He turned to Dean who stood next to you and mouthed something like, “Awesome,” to his brother.

“Will do,” you told the older man on the phone. “Hurry, Bobby.” You hung up as Dean calculated the winnings from the scratch-off tickets he made Sam fill out.

“Oh, man!” Dean grinned. “We’re up fifteen grand!”

You and Sam half-smiled, both feeling unsettled still.

Dean continued to laugh as he walked into the restaurant with you hot on his heels. 

“In case you forgot, Dean, we’re still technically fugitives,” you hissed. “If Sam’s luck goes to hell, we could be royally fucked.”

“Don't worry,” Dean said easily. “Bobby 'll find a way to break it. Until then I say we hit Vegas, pull a little Rain Man. Sam can be Rain Man.”

“Look, we just lay low until Bobby calls back, okay?” Sam whispered. He turned to the man behind the host stand. “Hi, uh, table for three, please.”

The man’s face broke out into a grin, and he hollered, “Congratulations!” An alarm began to sound through the restaurant.

“It's exciting, I know,” Dean quipped.

“You are the one millionth guest of the Biggerson's Restaurant family!” the man announced. 

The staff surrounding you began singing and taking photographs while they shoved a giant check into your hands. Balloons fell from the ceiling, and you and Sam would’ve rathered been anywhere else. Dean was ecstatic, though, which you were happy to see. You’d suffer tremendous embarrassment fifty times over just to see him smile. That thought scared you a little bit; how you'd do anything for him. You had a tendency to be an extremist.

You were escorted to your table, and a gorgeous waitress in what was clearly a black bob wig approached your table. 

Her coy smile was alluring, but something about her wasn’t sitting right with you. Still, nothing seemed off through the rest of the meal. Sam clacked away on his laptop rattling off bits of lore he was reading on rabbit’s foot Hoodoo magic while you and Dean shared a bowl of ice cream. 

“I think from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson's,” Dean commented. 

The waitress came back over to your table with a pot of coffee and grinned at Sam. “Can I freshen you up?”

Sam nodded. “Thanks.”

The waitress poured, still smiling, and spilled some in her flirtatious stupor. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Let me mop up here. Sorry about that.” She hurriedly cleaned her mess and left the table, appearing to flirt with Sam over her shoulder even as she left.

“Dude. If you were ever gonna get lucky…” Dean trailed off.

Sam smirked. “Shut up.”

You smacked Dean’s shoulder. “I’m right here.”

Sam went to pick up his coffee, but he knocked the cup over and spilled it all over himself. Before you could process what was going on, he jumped out of his seat and into a waiter with a full tray. Things went flying through the air as Sam rushed profuse apologies. 

“Sam, check your pockets,” you said evenly. 

He did, and his hands came up empty.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean growled.

You and the brothers threw a wad of cash on the table and raced into the parking lot after the waitress. You noticed the black bob wig ditched on the ground a few feet from the door. “I knew it was a wig!”

“What?” Sam asked, turning around to you. He immediately tripped and fell flat on his face. 

“Wow! You suck!” Dean laughed, turning back to a groaning Sam.

“Ow,” the younger brother whined while you helped him up. His knees were bloody and raw through his ripped jeans.

“So what, now your luck turns bad?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, Dean, I believe I’ve said that,” you remarked, and he glared at you. 

“Well, how bad does it get, genius?” 

“Really bad. C’mon,” you urged. 

“Where we goin’?” Sam asked.

“Back to the two jackwads that got us into this mess,” you said, hopping in the driver’s seat. 

“Whoa, who said you could drive?” Dean questioned.

“Me. Don’t be a child,” you said. 

***

You broke into the apartment once again to find the brunet man sadly downing a bottle of tequila. 

“Oh, man. What do you want?” the man asked.

“Heard about your friend. That's bad luck,” Dean tsked, referring to the death of the redheaded thief. 

“Piss off,” the man spat.

“We know someone hired you to steal the rabbit's foot. A woman,” Dean continued.

“Oh yeah? How do you know that?”

“Because she just stole it back from us.”

The man laughed. 

Sam stepped forward. “Listen man, this is seri—” and then he fell to the floor mid-sentence, pulling a CD player and a shelf down on top of him. 

You turned back to help the younger brother up. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, smiling awkwardly in thanks for your help. 

“I want you to tell us her name,” the older Winchester continued to the man. 

“Fuck you,” was the only response he got.

“It wasn't a freak accident that killed your partner,” you tried, coming out from behind the couch.

“What?”

“C’mon, don’t tell me you haven’t been thinkin’ it. I thought you’d be smarter than that,” you challenged. That seemed to get under the man’s skin, so you continued. “That series of unfortunate events that had to happen to kill your partner— like, had you not seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t have believed it— that was the rabbit’s foot. If you don’t help us stop this thing, those deaths are on you, my friend.”

The man in front of you looked worried. 

“And I gotta tell you, it doesn’t seem you’re cut out for the whole killin’ thing. You don’t wanna be a killer, do you?” you continued to press.

The man shook his head, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “No.”

***

You left the apartment repeating the woman’s last name over and over in your head. The man told you “Lugosi” was the only name he and his partner were given when they were hired. 

You took out your phone and called Bobby. 

“Hey, (Y/N), glad you called,” you heard the man say. 

“Hey, we got a situation here—”

“I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick,” Bobby continued. 

“That’s awesome, thank you, but uh…” you trailed off, trying to decide how to phrase your next words. You decided not to sugarcoat it in the end. “Sam lost the foot.”

“He what?!”

“I know, I know,” you sighed. You turned back around to see Sam and Dean trying to use a broken storm grate to get gum off the bottom of Sam’s shoe. You shook your head at their faces when they noticed you; seeming like two little kids caught with their hands in the candy bowl. You returned your focus to your phone call. “Listen, you know anybody by the name ‘Lugosi’? Maybe mid 20’s, super hot, my height—”

“Aw, crap. It’s probably Bela,” Bobby said. 

“ Bela Lugosi? That’s cute, but never heard of her,” you replied.

“Bela Talbot’s her real name,” the older man continued. “Crossed paths with her once or twice.”

“How the hell would she know John had the rabbit’s foot? She a hunter?” you questioned.

“Pretty fuckin’ far from a Hunter, but she knows her way around the territory. She's been out of the country,” Bobby explained. “Last I heard, she was in the Middle East someplace.”

“Well, she’s back!” you mock-cheered, exasperated.

“Which means seriously bad luck for you,” the older man added.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” you quipped.

“Well, kid, if it is Bela, at least I might know some folks who know where to find her,” he finished. 

“Thanks, Bobby. For everything.”

“Just… look out for those two idjits.” And with that, he hung up the phone.

You sighed and turned back around to see Dean reaching through the storm drain and Sam looking dejected. 

“What happened?” you asked.

“I lost my shoe,” the brunet replied sadly. 

Your eyebrows furrowed sympathetically, and Sam’s head hung low. Dean seemed annoyed and huffed, standing up from the floor. 

“C’mon,” the older brother asserted.

***

Bobby did actually have a pretty good lead on Bela; she apparently lived in Queens about two hours away. 

“So what are we doing here?” Sam questioned, referencing the motel you’d just gotten a room at. 

“You, my brother, are staying here 'cause I don't want your bad luck getting us killed,” Dean stated. “And (Y/N), you’re staying with him.”

“What?! Why?” you protested. 

“Because Sam actually listens to you when you tell him not to do something. And you’re way more responsible than me,” Dean shrugged simply.

“Fair point,” you sighed. “Knowing you, you’ll touch the stupid rabbit’s foot, though.”

“Pfft, c’mon, it’s me we’re talking about—”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” you dryly stated.

Dean glared at you playfully as he walked Sam into a motel room. You followed close behind and peeked out the door to make sure you weren’t followed. 

“What am I even supposed to do, Dean?” Sam whined.

“Nothing! Nothing. Come here. I don't want you doing anything. I want you to sit right here—” the older brother pulled a chair into the middle of the room— “and don't move, okay? Don't turn on the light, don't turn off the light. Don't even scratch your nose.” Dean turned to you. “If I’m not back by midnight, take off.”

“What, you gonna turn into a pumpkin or something?” you snickered.

“(Y/N), I’m serious.”

“Since when?”

“(Y/N)—”

“Okay, okay, fine, I heard you.”

Dean smirked down at you and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back,” he said.

You watched him leave, a bit of your heart tugging at being anywhere without him. Your feelings for him were certainly growing stronger, and it frightened you how constantly you needed to be near him. 

You turned back to see Sam wrinkle his nose a few times before finally risking a scratch at it. 

“Hey! None of that,” you said. 

Sam’s sad eyes turned to yours. “This fuckin’ sucks, man,” he sighed.

“I know it does. Kinda the whole point of the rabbit’s foot curse,” you commented.

He ignored your smart remark.

“Found anything on how to break Dean’s deal?” you asked.

Sam shook his head. “No. Did find out something interesting, though.”

“What?’ you asked.

“All my mom’s old contacts? All her old friends, the nurse who delivered me— they’re all dead,” he explained.

“What?!” you shrieked. “And you didn’t think to mention this before now?!”

“Shh, keep your voice down,” Sam said. “Didn’t wanna say anything in front of Dean; he’d go berserk.”

“You know I have to tell him, right?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“No, no! Please don’t,” he begged. “Please. You know he’d flip. And, uh, probably more because of the way I got that information than the information itself.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Ruby told me.”

“Oh, god.” You rolled your eyes and dropped your head back. 

“C’mon, (Y/N), I mean, I called, and it all checks out. It’s got something to do with me and the demon; I know you recognize that pattern,” Sam tried.

“I do, but I don’t like being constantly stuck in the middle of you and Dean,” you said. “I’m supposed to be Switzerland, remember?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean Switzerland didn’t have information on the two sides, she just didn’t pick one,” he shrugged.

“Sam,” you warned, “You know how I feel about keeping things from Dean.”

“I know, I know, but you wouldn’t necessarily be keeping it from him, you’d be…” he trailed off, trying to think of a way to phrase his next words, “fulfilling a promise to me.”

“But I didn’t promise anything,” you argued.

“Please promise me you won’t tell Dean. Not till I’m ready,” Sam begged.

“Sam!”

“(Y/N/N), c’mon. Please, man. Please.”

You stared at Sam for a prolonged moment; you stared intensely and Sam looked up at you with puppy-dog eyes from his chair. You sighed and dropped your head forward. “Fine. But you are gonna promise me that you’ll tell Dean eventually. That’s my one condition.”

Sam nodded. “Deal.”

You shook your head and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Sam’s chair. “You Winchesters and your secrets.”

“Oh, like you don’t have any,” Sam deadpanned.

You looked up at the television and saw the reflection of your guard uniform and scratched-up face staring back at you. You took in a sharp breath and let it out slowly. “Touché.” You paused for a moment. “Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“What are you gonna do when—” you cut yourself off, tears beginning to well in your throat. You took a deep breath to push them down. “When Dean’s gone?” 

Sam shook his head. “(Y/N), no. He’s not gonna—”

“Sam,” you said. “We are trying everything we can. We’re two months into this thing and no closer to saving him than we were on day one. I stopped looking. Not ‘cause I don’t care anymore, but because I’m not gonna send you to Hell just so Dean can live. I mean, Bobby’s been lookin’, too! And he hasn’t found a damn thing. So I just think we have to be real with ourselves.”

Sam shook his head, tears in his eyes.

“I don’t wanna lose him,” you said, putting your hand on Sam’s knee to make him look at you and beginning to cry, too. “I don’t. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But… I’m scared, man. When I lost my family…” you closed your eyes at the memory of some of the awful things you’d done and would never forgive yourself for, “I don’t wanna do that again. And… And I just think that if we kept huntin’ together, we could keep tabs on each other. Make sure the other doesn’t go rogue, y’know?”

“I can’t believe you’re just gonna give up on him like that,” Sam spat, disappointed. 

“I’m not!” you argued. “But I’m not gonna help you kill yourself, dammit! Dean would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself!”

“Look, we’ve got ten months left. We’ll find something,” Sam continued. 

“I hope you’re right, man. I really do,” you said.  

Neither of you said anything for the next few hours.

During that time, you took out your journal and wrote. You didn’t usually keep journals when you were done with them as your duffel bag would be filled to the brim with them by now, but you were definitely going to keep this one; especially after Dean was gone. 

It was somewhat poetic that the first day you met the boys was the first time you’d written in this particular journal. Its pages were filled with your, at first, disdainful musings about the older Winchester brother and slowly but surely became your attempts at discerning your feelings for him.

You liked to buy quite thick and large journals to have enough room for your drawings and to be able to continue writing in them for months and occasionally years. This was the longest you’d been able to stretch one, though, and you were a little over three-fourths through writing in it. 

“I can’t help but wonder what comes next after all this,” you wrote, the pen gliding easily against the page in time with your racing thoughts. “I’ve always been awful about ‘futurecasting’ as Dad called it, but it’s even worse now. Every second I’m with Dean, I can’t help but think about how this is all gonna be over in less than a year. And it’s awful. I wanna be present with him. I just can’t. I don’t want there to be an end to us. I don’t even know if we are anything! He can’t even tell me he loves me.

“And I get it to some extent. ‘I love you’s are hard for him. Fine. I just wish he’d figure out some way to communicate with me that isn’t sex. I mean, the sex is great, but. I don’t know. And just after everything that happened, I’m not feeling great about having sex anyway. And I know it’s upsetting him, even if he won’t say anything; he’d never pressure me, and I know that. And I’m getting better about sex and related things. But it just sucks.

“And I don’t wanna bring any of this up with him and start fights because, as I’m painfully aware, that deadline is getting closer and closer every day. I just want him to be happy with me while he still can be.”

You dropped your pen when the air conditioning unit next to you began to smoke. 

“Oh come on, I- I didn't- I wasn't—” Sam whined.

“Just stay put,” you said. You jerked back in surprise when the unit suddenly caught fire. You grabbed the comforter from the bed next to you and began to put the fire out with it. Thankfully, the fire stopped. 

“I’m gonna see if I can get someone to fix that for us before your luck kills us both with carbon monoxide poisoning,” you said, starting toward the door. 

Suddenly, the door to the motel room burst open. However, it wasn’t Dean who opened it. It was two men. You drew your gun and cocked it, trained on the two men. “Get the fuck out,” you ordered. 

“I don’t think so,” said the older-looking man. He almost reminded you of Willem Dafoe, and you mentally pegged that as his name. The other man with a bizarre-looking mustache charged you, and you fired. Somehow, the bullet missed its target despite him being in such close range. 

“What the hell, Sam?!” you exclaimed. “Your luck’s rubbin’ off on me!”

“Sorry!” he winced.

The man charging you tried to restrain you in a headlock, but you kicked him squarely between the legs. You jutted your elbow back into his nose simultaneously, and the man dropped you. 

Unfortunately for you, though, Sam had been trying to help you by taking on Willem Dafoe. You turned around to see Sam unable to land a punch on the other man’s face. You tried to help him, but Sam ended up punching you across the face, and you were knocked out cold.

***

When you woke up, your arms were bound behind your back, and your legs were taped together as well. The men had laid you on your stomach, and you immediately began to struggle and panic, feeling your current position was too similar to the one you’d been in with the guard. 

“Dean! Help me!” you wailed without thinking. Your body was in autopilot as you struggled, and you couldn’t even focus on the men in the room. 

“Quit whinin’,” the man with the mustache told you. 

You could barely hear him over the roaring in your ears. “Dean!”

“I said shut up!” the man in front of you roared, slapping you across the face.

You couldn’t, though, continuing to flail like a fish out of water.

“Creedy,” the other man said, turning away from Sam and to his accomplice, “shut her up, please.”

“With pleasure.” The man took a rag out of his shirt and shoved it in your mouth, your muffled cries coming out around it. 

You vaguely heard Willem Dafoe beating the crap out of Sam while he talked about his mission from “god” to kill Sam. Then, the man drew his gun. His partner was unsettled, too, as you strained harder to get out of your binds. 

Suddenly, your saving grace appeared in the doorway. “Dean!” you cried through the gag in your mouth. 

Willem Dafoe turned around and aimed the gun point-blank at Sam’s forehead. 

“Nope. No destiny,” Dean said coolly referring to the man’s earlier comment about god and destiny leading them to Sam. “Just a rabbit's foot.”

“Put the gun down, son, or you're gonna be scraping brain off the wall,” the man replied, his tone ice cold.

Dean waved his Taurus around. “Oh, this thing?”

“Yeah, that thing,” look-alike-Dafoe responded. 

“Okay.” Dean put his gun down on the nightstand beside him, looking smug. “But you see, there's something about me that you don't know.” Dean smoothly picked up a pen off the nightstand beside the gun. 

“Yeah? What would that be?”

“It’s my lucky day,” Dean grinned. He tossed the pen toward Willem Dafoe, and it lodged in the barrel of the gun. ““Oh my God, did you see that shot?!” 

Forgetting all about your current situation, you started yelling through the gag, “You fucking touched it? You fucking idiot!” But all that came out was a muffled garbling of words. 

The man named Creedy lunged at Dean, but missed his punch completely. The man ended up running straight into the wall, and Dafoe was busying himself trying to dislodge the pen from the barrel of his gun. 

“I'm amazing,” Dean said smugly. He picked up the television remote and threw it hard at Dafoe. It hit the man square between the eyes, knocking him out cold. 

“I’m Batman,” you heard Dean suavely state, but you were too busy returning your focus to getting your binds undone. Now that the immediate danger was over, your body went back into panic mode. You yelped when you suddenly felt a hand on your back and fought even harder. 

“Hey, hey!” Dean coaxed. “It’s just me.” He saw you weren’t listening, and he immediately set to work cutting the duct tape binding your legs and wrists. Your hands shakily yanked out the rag in your mouth. Only then did you realize Dean was the one in front of you, and you leapt into his arms. 

He caught you easily, one hand around the underside of your back and the other around the topside your legs. You curled up into him and buried your face in his neck. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” Dean tried, but your shaking wouldn’t stop. You could feel your sobs slowly subside, but it took quite a while of Dean holding you for you to regain your composure. He pressed kisses into the side of your hair while he held you and tried to soothe you by telling you you were safe. 

You finally uncurled your legs from around Dean and let him put you down. 

Sam came up behind you to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You okay?” he asked. 

You nodded as you sniffled. 

“What happened?” Sam asked in that very unique-to-him soft voice. 

“I dunno,” you lied. 

Dean gave you a look that let you know he’d be asking more questions later. 

“C’mon, we gotta get the hell outta here,” you said, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You could feel the boys giving you questioning looks as you gathered up yours and the boys’ things and stalked out to the car. 

*** “Alright,” Sam began, sprinkling cayenne pepper into the embers of a small fire you and the Winchesters had started in the middle of a cemetery. “Bone ash, cayenne pepper, that should do it.”

“One second…” Dean said absentmindedly, scratching off the last of his lottery tickets. 

“Dean—” Sam complained. 

“Hey, back off, Jinx. I’m bringing home the bacon,” Dean quipped. He stashed the cards in his jacket that he’d slung over a gravestone. “Alright, say goodbye, wascally wabbit.” He dangled the rabbit’s foot over the top of the fire. 

“Hey!” you shouted, whipping out your gun at the sound of a twig cracking. You aimed it at the sound, and Bela emerged from the darkness with hers drawn as well. 

“I think you'll find that belongs to me,” she said firmly. “Or, you know, whatever. Put the foot down, honey.”

“Oh, hell no,” you said, cocking your gun. 

Bela cut her eyes at you, shooting Sam in the shoulder.

You exclaimed, “What the—!” and Dean cursed, “Son of a—” as Sam collapsed to the ground. 

“Back off, tiger,” Bela told you. “Back off! You make one more move, and I’ll pull the trigger. You’ve got the luck, Dean. You, I can’t hit. But your brother? Him, I can’t miss.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” the older brother roared. “You don't just go around shooting people like that!”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Relax. It's a shoulder hit; I can aim. Besides, who here hasn't shot a few people? Put the rabbit's foot on the ground now.”

“Alright!” Dean mollified. “Alright. Take it easy.” He moved to drop the rabbit’s foot, but instead, he threw it at Bela. “Think fast,” he smirked. 

Bela caught the foot and immediately realized what she’d done. “Damn!”

“Now, what do you say we destroy that ugly-ass piece of dead thing?” Dean smiled in satisfaction. 

Bela sighed, aggravated. She dropped her arm and uncocked her gun, but you kept yours aimed at her as she moved over to the fire. 

“Would you stop pointing that at me?” her smooth voice came without looking at you. 

“Sorry, love. Don’t trust you,” you smiled in fake-politeness. 

She rolled her eyes and moved back to the fire. She dropped the foot into the fire. “Thanks very much,” Bela continued. “I'm out one and a half million, and on the bad side of a very powerful, fairly psychotic buyer.” 

“Wow. I really don't feel bad about that. Sam?” Dean turned to his brother.

“Nope. Not even a little.”

Bela’s gaze hardened. “Hmm. Maybe next time, I'll hang you out to dry.” She turned around and moved toward the gravestone where Dean’s jacket laid. You knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Have a nice night, girls,” Bela smirked. 

You glared at her. “Uh, uh! Turn around!” you ordered. 

“What?” she sighed, clearly annoyed. 

“Gimme the tickets,” you commanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. 

“Yeah, you do. You can’t con me, angel.”

She grumbled angrily but took the stolen tickets out of her pocket and threw them to the ground. 

“Thanks a million,” you called after her. 

“You’re fuckin’ awesome, woman,” Dean admired, you assumed in reference to the tickets you noticed Bela stole. He came over to you and kissed you boldly. You giggled against his lips, and he held your waist firmly. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Hey! Bleeding out, here!” 

You broke away from Dean. “Oh, sorry!” you grimaced, moving to head back to the Impala. “C’mon, I’ll get you patched up.”

When you ensured the rabbit’s foot was burnt to a crisp, you and the Winchesters moved to the car. 

“You good?” Dean asked his brother. 

“I’ll live,” he responded. 

“I guess we're back to normal now, huh? No good luck, no bad luck. And we're up forty-six thousand.” Dean threw his arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple, waving the tickets around in the air. 

“Maybe we should hit Vegas, see how good our luck still is,” you suggested, smiling lopsidedly. 

“I like the way you think,” Dean nodded. “Whaddaya say, Sammy?”

“I think you guys are gonna end up blowing all our money on slot machines,” the younger brother dryly commented. 

“Ye of little faith,” you said. “If not Vegas, we can at least get ourselves a nicer motel room. Maybe we can graduate to hotels!”

“Ooh, yeah. One of those hotels with a jacuzzi tub.”

“Hell yeah—”

“Guys,” Sam groaned. “Still bleeding out, here.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Love it when characters casually reveal some insane childhood trauma with a nostalgic smile on their face because this is just a normal part of their childhood how fun! to the absolute horror of those around them who are very much in the 'that's not normal what the actual fuck' boat

Okay but here's what makes me tear up:

This conversation happens in a devilgram where Diavolo is picking apples for Barbatos to make an apple pie for him and it cuts to a flashback that shows Diavolo wanted an apple tree to impress his new angel friend and excitedly tells this to Barbatos. Barbatos then helps Diavolo plant an apple tree in the forest

Isn't that rattling your brain!!!? Aren't you foaming at the mouth!?!?!

The Demon King enchanted this forest to be full of things that could hurt and kill his child, all in the name of preparing Diavolo to be a better king

Then Barbatos helps Diavolo plant apple trees in it, because Diavolo wants to share it with their enemy, a gesture of friendship and good will that would eventually bring peace to the three worlds* which in turn helps Diavolo grow towards becoming a better king

Diavolo's father created a deadly survival course for a child so he wouldn't get bored, something that would keep Diavolo away from him, and the man who actually raised Diavolo spent time with Diavolo helping him grow apple trees in it

A labour of love grown and tended to for years, if not centuries, just so Diavolo could give his friend apples (another gesture of love) built upon the soil of something that was meant to push and punish Diavolo into being the ideal ruler

*(over a series of meetings Diavolo & Lucifer become friends -> Lucifer starts questioning things in the Celestial Realm -> Lucifer, pushed by the sentence against Lilith, starts a war in the Celestial Realm -> Lucifer seeks sanctuary in the Devildom -> Diavolo helps Lucifer + reincarnates Lilith -> Lucifer pledges his loyalty to Diavolo + through Lilith's line MC is eventually born -> through MC & the brothers' fates being tied Lucifer accidentally picks MC for the exchange program -> MC showing that people from all three worlds could not only be close friends but family starts mending bridges + MC wanting to stay in the Devildom permanently gets everyone actively pushing for peace leading to them becoming part of the student council/government and challenging the views of the older/more conservative demons -> all this eventually kickstarts both Diavolo & Lucifer's character & relationship development -> Diavolo learns to be a more considerate ruler & person who listens to others instead of immediately jumping in with his own plans & ideas + Lucifer learns to actually push back against Diavolo & not just be his 'Yes Man')

Also this Devilgram is called "The Seven Apples"

and with lines like,

"Still...I hope that all this effort bears fruit, someday"

"With enough care and attention, I'm certain that it shall."

"Ah, well. Good things come to those who wait, and all that."

And talk about the future of the Devildom and how they pick exactly seven apples, the whole tree talk/metaphor is 100% about gaining the friendship & trust of Lucifer and his brothers by putting in the effort, care and attention to one day, years in the future, have seven shining apples with you

BUT, EVEN WITHOUT THAT DOUBLE MEANING,

It's not just a tree.

It's all about love, isn't it and the things we do for the people we love.

[ama0310]

The President's Daughter

Character: Finnick Odair

Requested: No

Type: Angst/Fluff

Summary: Arianna Flemings-Snow, the adopted daughter of Coriolanus Snow, bravely volunteers for the 75th Annual Hunger Games. Yet, her courage comes at the cost of confronting not only the repercussions of re-entering the deadly arena but also the profound challenge of sharing it with the man she passionately loves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Finnick Odair, right?” 

Haymitch nods points towards the screen, “ Yes, he won his games at fourteen. Youngest ever. Extremely humble.” 

“You’re kidding right?” He looked like the most narcissistic show off known to man. His stance. His waves. His stupid smirk. He looked as if he were happy to be returning. 

“Yes I’m kidding. He’s a...” Haymitch dramatically flips his hair” …peacock. A total preener but he’s the Capitol darling. They love him here. Charming , smart, and very skilled at combat—especially in water.”

Peta leans forward glancing at the screen, “What about weaknesses?” 

“Well two. First Mags.” A frail looking wrinkly woman pops on the screen. “ She volunteered for Annie. Mags was his mentor and basically raised him. If he’s trying to protect her in any way it exposes him.” 

Katniss stares at the screen seeing the women bravely volunteer for the young girl in hysterics, “A guy like that has to know she’s not going to make it. I bet when it really comes down to it, he won’t protect her. 

Sadness flashes through Haymitch’s eyes, “Well Katniss,  I just hope when she goes…she goes quickly. She’s actually a wonderful lady.” 

The silence fills the room before Peta asks, “And his other weakness?” 

Haymitch lightly smirks before passing  to the next district when a beautiful girl with hair as white as snow comes up. “ District 5. Arianna Flemings. Mostly known as...”

“President Snow’s daughter?” Katniss snaps her head to Haymitch. Eyes widened. 

He tilts his head a bit. “Adopted. She won her games at fifteen. Everyone and I mean everyone fell in love with her. She was the purest of the pure. The cutest of the cute. And the most dangerous of the danger. After one of the tributes killed her district partner all hell broke loose and she murdered the last seven remaining tributes within two hours with one. singular. knife.”

Peta shook his head in disbelief, “If he adopted her then that means he has to have some sort of heart. And he’s letting her go back to the games?” 

Haymitch holds out his hand signaling for the kid to stop talking, “Well, there were rumors about Snow not really adding Arianna’s name into the reaping; however, when her childhood friend was reaped she immediately volunteered. Flabbergasted everyone.” The video shows Arianna immediately protesting and volunteering the moment her friend’s name dropped. The horror on everyone’s face was telling how much the district loved her. 

He cleared his throat and continued, “ I imagined Snow wasn't really happy about that. That’s what he gets for adopting a victor when he’s the leader of these games." He shrugs. "Arianna is very captivating. Even Snow’s heart had to have melt for that young girl. Took her right under his wing. Obviously she was treated like a victor but most importantly she was treated like a Capitol.” 

“If his daughter is that important wouldn’t he know that during the games people will be targeting his daughter. Who wouldn’t if his daughter means that much to him.” 

That’s when Haymtich shook his head, “ Because my dear little Katniss… A) he calls the shots. If you haven’t realized everything in the games are controlled by him and people that love her. He’ll be hovering over you all the entire time. B) She’s a skilled competitor. Again seven tributes dead in two hours by the hands of a 110 pound fifteen year old, hello people keep up. Since then she’s never eased on her training. Obviously she’s bound to have enemies because of her father so she never stopped. Really good using her resources, excellent with knives, basically insanely dangerous. C) Finnick Odair. Both basically spent the last nine years together. Everyone thinks they’re together, but are keeping it hidden because of her father. I’m sure the President feels a lot better having Finnick with her knowing that he would risk his entire life for her. However don’t think it’ll make it easy to kill them. While you two are faking it. They—“ He points to the screen. “Are real. You hurt her and not only will you have Snow on your asses, but a trident in your chest. You hurt him and you’d have knives shoved up every hole in your body. They’re each other’s weaknesses but also strengths. They are who you want to be allies with. I’m serious Katniss don’t mess this up.” 

~~~~~~~

Arianna couldn’t breathe in her dress. It’s not that it’s too tight (which it actually is), but more-so that she’s again back to where she was those many years ago. 

“Breathe. Breathe. Breathe” She lightly whispers under her breath while entering to where all the other Victors were.  She was wearing a beautiful white gown with red lace at the top. Her red make-up contrasting her snow-white features. 

“Isn’t it Snow’s precious girl. Miss Flemings never thought I would have to see you back in the games.” She turns around and sees Gloss from Tribute 1. 

“You and me both. Don’t you look as charming as ever.” She smiles graciously wrapping her arms around her friend. “Where’s Cash?” 

He smiles and points behind him, “Getting the gang back together. Should we be expecting you to join us?” 

Her eyes immediately try to find the one person she truly wanted to ally with. “Gloss I would love to, but I have to check with Finnick. You know wherever he goes I go.”

He nods understanding completely, “And I admire your loyalty. Please try to get him on our side. We really don’t want to have to go against either of you.” 

She nods smiling softly at the man, “Speaking of Finnick do you know where he might be. He wasn’t with Mags.” 

The guy pointed behind her making her turn, “I guess he’s already trying to get the Girl on Fire on his side…without telling you?” 

Arianna lightly hit him, “Glossy I love you, but I hope you weren’t trying to turn me against Finnick. Like you said before I am extremely loyal.” 

He chuckles before backing away, “ Didn’t hurt to try. Now go to lover boy, but please remember what I said.” 

She watches him go back to the Career pack and lightly waves at them before heading towards the duo. 

“Then how do people pay for the pleasure of your company?” If only she knew the truth. 

She sees him lean forward, making the Girl on Fire look uncomfortable  “With secrets” 

Arianna thought it was the perfect time to break the tension especially since she wanted to talk to the golden boy before they had to parade themselves. “Nicky, we went over this so many times, you should never try to get with an engaged woman. Very inappropriate.” She wraps her arm his waist looking up at him. His smirk turned into a genuine smile. 

He immediately looked down at the young girl smirking, “Arianna, you know I’d never try to get with anyone else but you.” 

She lightly smacks his chest before looking over the girl staring curiously at the duo, “ Arianna Flemings.” She sticks her hand out smiling as Katniss took it. “ My niece absolutely loves you. She always wanted to meet you, my father never really introduced us, but you know how he is. You look absolutely beautiful by the way.”  

Katniss couldn’t help but like the girl in front of her. Though the fact that she is someone that Snow cares about keeps nagging at her, the girl alone seems genuine. “I’m Katniss. I saw your games. Very impressive.” Her curt response made Arianna look at Finnick then back at the girl.

“Thank you and your game was also very impressive.” She smiles and then turns her attention to the man next to her. “Nicky, can I talk to you over there please?” 

His gaze went to his angel and then to the girl who’s staring at them, “I’ll be there in a second need to wrap up my introduction to the Girl on Fire.” 

Arianna rolled her eyes playfully before turning to Katniss, “It was really nice to meet you.”

The two stared as Arianna glides away elegantly. Finnick leans towards the girl with a smile, “She is off limits. You hurt her and I’ll gladly pay back the favor with your fiancé while you watch and die an agonizing death. Got that? ” Before she can answer he backs away going to find his girl. 

He finally sees her talking to her district partner and then shoos him away. "Nicky? Did you really had to use that name? "

Her gaze filled with mischief yet care had him wrapped around her finger, "There's Nick, Nickey, Finnley, Finnerson, Fin-"

"Okay we get it, but there's only one name I like hearing you call me." He leans closer.

"Mon amour" She smirks before lightly pushing him back. "That's only reserved when we aren't about to dive head first into our deaths."

His smile drops, " You are not dying. Snow will not allow it and neither will I."

She caresses his face, "Finnick these are how the games are. Though my father cares for me he wants to destroy the girl even more."

He lightly glares at the girl, gripping her waist a bit tighter. " Why did you have to volunteer dammit. Everything was going to be fine, but you just had to volunteer. Why on earth did you even do that?"

She glances around noticing that people are getting on their carriage to start the parade. " I had to, love. But it's okay. I promise you, it will be okay."

The sincerity in her eyes truly made him believe it was all going to be fine even though his heart knew it wasn't.

They finally break eye contact when her partner tells her that the parade is about to start. "Better get on your carriage Snow White looks like Prince Charming needs you."

She kisses him on the cheek, "I'm not into Princes, I prefer fishermen" winking and getting on her carriage.

They both know that no matter what happens in the ring. Capitol be dam. Districts be dam. Both their goal is to protect one another no matter what the cost is.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

TWO: G & G.

You know that there are those in the world who strike fear into people’s hearts and souls.

But you’ve never seen anyone react to a single human being the way they do the duo that struts into the bar in their leather cowboy boots. 

You’ve never seen the saloon so quiet and still before then when the duo steps into the scene. A tumbleweed could blow by with how silent it is.

Everyone’s eyes stay planted on the tall, handsome men oozing with confidence and intimidation standing among the swinging doors, appearing like sexy phantoms in the night.

There stands Geto Suguru, the 6’4 long-haired gunslinger with the perfect, black locks that cascade down his broad shoulders and back, seductive eyes, and skillful hands that he hides behind two riding gloves.

He usually is seen riding a black Bronco that is just as big as him and sporting a black cape with black riding pants, boots, and a low-brim cowboy hat. Black fits him so damn well. The only thing that isn’t black on him is the red vest that is so low-cut that you can see the outline of his pecs. 

Beside him is his partner (and lover as it’s rumored) Gojo Satoru, the lean, confident, cocky, blindfolded bandit standing at 6’3 with snow-white hair, a sly smile, leather gloves that hide some skillful and deadly hands, and a blindfold covering his eyes that have never been seen but are said to make a man go cold with fear where he stands.

In contrast to Geto, the white-haired cowboy is doused in colors: a denim jacket that matches his slacks where a star-shaped belt buckle hangs from his crotch; brown boots with spurs; a red bandana wrapped around his neck; and a white cowboy hat sits low on his head. He, too, has his own horse: a brown Bronco that is recognizable from its hooves clicking across the ground.  

They are a match made in heaven and hell. Handsome, skillful, and deadly. They are known for their impressive yet terrifying speed when it comes to cocking and shooting their pistols. You’ve heard of them killing all kinds of wanted criminals and even other gunslingers in other counties.

Everyone knows them and so do you. 

If a record was playing, the damn thing would be scratching by now with the way the saloon reacts to seeing the gunslingers in the flesh. Whispers begin to rise from the silence, including from Yuki, Mai, and Maki who have wandered over. “Oh, my God,” Mai gasps. “It’s the Gunslingers!” 

“What the hell are they doin’ here?” Maki wonders aloud, peering at them from behind her spectacles. “Are they lookin’ for someone? I thought they had been arrested!” 

And they did, last year. At some point, the articles of gunslingers, corporation owners, and high rollers found dead with bullets in them and a note from “G & G” left at the scene stopped when they were arrested after that train heist. And you know it has everything to do with their connection to your boss. 

“Who cares?” Yuki dreamily sighs as she stares at the gunslingers with heart eyes. “I get to admire them in person now! Aren’t they delicious?” 

“Keep it in your pants, Yuki,” Choso grumbles, tugging on a lock of the blonde’s hair as she giggles. “They ain’t even all that.” 

“Of course not,” Yuki purrs, making Choso blush. “Not above you, Chosi, but a cowboy hat would do you so well!”

Even you will admit that the “wanted dead or alive” posters don’t do them justice: they are fine as all hell, straight out of a woman’s wet dreams. But they are also outlaws. And you despise outlaws…for personal reasons. 

The duo begins to look around the silent saloon, Gojo’s head slowly turning despite his blindfold. When his head turns toward you, you feel as if the air has been stolen from your very lungs. Despite the fabric covering his eyes, you feel as if he sees you. All of you. 

Gojo nudges Geto with his elbow before waltzing over to the bar, his boots thudding across the hardwood floor. Geto follows, ignoring the whispers and stares in their wake. The piano has begun to pick up again, but it does nothing to ease the tension swimming in the air. Quickly, you turn to face your drink while the girls scatter to work, leaving you to fend for yourself. 

Geto sits on the stool beside you while Gojo takes the one beside him. You feel the air around you become stiff and tense as the cowboys settle into their seats. “So what’s a cowboy gotta do to get a drink round here?” Gojo asks with a smirk. “Can ya help a guy out, miss?”

He gives Shoko a flirty look, not knowing that this girl is gay as hell. “I could damn sure try,” she replies, barely giving him a smile. “What will you fellas have?” 

“I’ll take a Long Island iced tea,” Gojo says then laughs. “Just kiddin’! A beer, please.”

Geto takes a moment to examine the shelves of alcohol behind Shoko. He then looks at your pretty drink. “I’ll take what the lady is havin’,” he answers. “Actually, what is that you got there, miss?” 

His dark, enchanting eyes meet yours and you ignore the butterflies they invoke inside of you. “Whiskey smash,” you blandly reply.

He hums thoughtfully at the name. “Hm…is it good?” You tick your eyes at him briefly, secretly admiring his features. “If you like your whiskey with some sweetness to it, sure.”

A slow smirk appears on his face. “Oh, I definitely do,” he drawls. “I like sweetness with my everything.” 

You swallow hard, so sure you have a cherry pit in your throat. Gojo chuckles from beside his partner, flashing you a white-toothed smile. “Oooh, me too. I’ll third that order, ma’am!” Shoko nods and shoots you a look before wandering off to fix the drinks. 

You do your best to keep calm and act normal, sipping your drink and trying to relax. At some point, the silence becomes thicker, prompting one of the gunslingers to speak on it. “Welcomin’ place,” Gojo sniggers. “I feel so at home.”

Geto quietly chuckles from between you and Gojo. “Let’s just settle, Satoru. We won’t be here long.” 

‘Settle what?’ you wonder, but you know that they are here for Kento. Shoko comes back with the frothy, red drinks, lowering them in front of the gunslingers. 

“Thank you kindly,” Gojo chirps before taking a sip. Geto nods his thanks but doesn’t drink his right away. Instead, he goes into his pocket and retrieves a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it and slides it across the bar to Shoko. “I don’t suppose you know who this guy is,” he says. 

You peek down at the paper, finding it to be a “Wanted” poster with your BF and boss looking back at you. Kenzo aka “Valentine” looks much different than when you met him. On the poster, he is clean and shaven, has longer, shaggier hair, and has a distinguished scar on his left eye.

But of course, this is the gunslinger who robbed people blind and just pulled a train heist and massacre in the town of Cherrywood a year before with his crew, Geto, and Gojo. The man who takes his place now is Kenzo, a humble saloon owner who sometimes dabbles in illegal activity to fund his saloon.  

Valentine, a criminal on the lamb and your outlaw boyfriend, is known for using his looks, charm, and violence to get what he wants. He is a man who loves money, women, and jewels. As a notorious criminal and outlaw, he has bounced from place to place, county to county, robbing folks and then laying low before starting again. 

He was arrested for robbing the Cherrywood regional train and having his crew massacre all of its employees and riders before you met him. Originally, he was given a fifty-year sentence but escaped after serving five weeks just by seducing a male prison guard and then knocking him out to steal the cell keys. 

You were hot on his trails when he showed up Blackwater a year later and met you in a whorehouse that you purposely took a job in since he frequented those. He took one look at you and immediately fell in love with you (and your body), proposing you a job at his saloon. “You could be mine,” he told you. “My girl.” You agreed and the rest is history. 

“I’ve heard of him, yes,” Shoko replies as she cleans a glass. 

“Is it possible you’ve seen him around?” Geto ponders aloud. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but he escaped Cherrywood a year ago after robbin’ a train and massacrin’ everyone in it. He’s wanted in about nine different counties.”

Shoko takes another brief look at the poster before someone flags her down from down at the bar. Saved by the bell. “I can’t say I have seen him, fellas,” she apologetically says. “‘Scuse me.” 

She hurries off, leaving you with the two cowboys. “How about you, ma’am?” Geto asks, passing the poster to you. “You recognize this face by any chance?” You look down, studying Valentine’s face.

You have, but first, you need to read these guys. “I’ve seen him in the posters, but not in person. May I ask why you two are here?” 

You keep it casual and curious, making sure you don’t sound too suspicious. “We were paid by a private source to track down Valentine for his crimes,” Geto vaguely explains. 

“And for personal business,” Gojo adds with a smirk. “You see, we were in, uh…business with Valentine some time ago and never got our cut.”

He doesn’t need to go any more into detail than that. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “We don’t like bein’ played with,” he says, his voice dipping an octave, sending a chill down your spine. “Or when someone’s money is funny, so we came here to exchange words with him.” 

‘Words or bullet?’ you want to ask, but you instead bite your tongue and sip your drink. 

“We’ve been told he was last seen in this town,” Geto explains. “We figured everyone comes to saloons so why not check here?” He slides the poster away from you, a kind yet flirty smile crossing his beautiful face. “But even if he isn’t, we can still enjoy a drink with a pretty lady.” 

You roll your eyes, having heard that line before. “Does that line work with all the girls?” you scoff. Gojo coughs up his whiskey as he laughs, but Geto doesn’t take it to heart. In fact, he chuckles.  “I see not with you,” he replies. 

“I like that,” Gojo states once he’s recovered, his blindfolded eyes set dead on you. “You’ve gotta be the first person who isn’t scared of us or tryin’ to jump in bed with us.”

You passively shrug, twirling your tongue around the rim of the glass. “I’ve been around gunslingers in my time.” 

At this, the duo share a look unbeknownst to you, quite interested in the pretty thing sitting with them at the bar. “Oh, really?” Gojo drawls and you realize your mistake. “Any of these encounters you’d care to share, little lady? I’m quite interested.”

Geto nods, his gaze like molten fire. “I am too.” 

You suddenly feel your mouth grow dry and your cheeks become hot. Your body reacts in a way it never has with any man you’ve been with, not even your first love! The way they continue to stare at you, giving you their undivided and unwanted attention, is even worse.

What is wrong with you?

Luckily, your boss comes to the rescue, barreling up to the bar like he wasn’t watching the duo from afar and shaking in his boots. 

“Oh, gentlemen!” he shouts, giving them both a hard, eager handshake. “Welcome, welcome! Can I offer you two another drink or a dance free of charge?”

Gojo ignores him like he isn’t even talking, leaving Geto to handle this. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he says, plastering on a kind smile. “We’re here for some information about him.” 

He passes Kenzo the poster and you watch in real time as the color in your boyfriend’s face drains. “Have you seen this guy anywhere?” Geto asks, squinting at him.

Gojo peers at him from under his hat, his stare intense even with the blindfold covering his eyes. Kenzo clears his throat and leans in to whisper to Geto. You pretend to ignore them though you secretly strain to hear. “Let’s talk in private,” he whispers. “Even the walls have ears, I’m afraid.” 

Geto nods and nudges to Gojo who sighs and downs the rest of his drink. To your shock, Geto puts a hand out to you for a shake. Though hesitantly, you take his hand and feel the room grow hotter than a sauna when he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “It was a pleasure meetin’ you, ma’am,” he softly says. “Hopefully, we’ll cross paths again.” 

His eyes gleam as he tips his hat at you, leaving Gojo to follow Kenzo upstairs. Gojo doesn’t follow right away, instead digging into his pocket for some coins and placing them on the bar in front of you. “For your drinks and yours,” he says with a crooked smile. “Have a good night, little miss.” 

Then, just like Geto, he leaves as if he didn’t just steal the air you breathe with it. It takes a moment to get your head back, but once you do, you down the rest of your drink and get up from your seat. Shoko catches your eye and gives you a look, her eyes telling you a message: 

“Don’t get caught,” she warns you. “And don’t get killed.” 

You nod, blowing her a kiss, before following your boss and the duo upstairs.

[barefoothighlander]

call of duty masterlist

-my requests are open if you have any asks!

-this blog is 18+, mdni, if i notice you’re an underage or ageless blog i will block you

-all posts will have individual warnings, smut indicated with a *

-taglist form

simon ‘ghost’ riley

absolution (18+) masterlist

summary: you're a sniper and hostage negotiations specialist in the military, secretly married to Simon, as the knowledge of your relationship would compromise both your posts. one night he comes home from a mission and you tell him that Price wants you on the team for an upcoming 141 mission.

spillways (18+) masterlist

summary: you joined the 141 a year ago, your file is completely redacted and no one knows anything about you, other than your code name, ‘phoenix’. you keep to yourself but have caught the eye of ghost, who seems intrigued by your presence and is determined to find out who you are behind the mask you put up.

mary on a cross (18+) masterlist

summary: you've recently moved to manchester, while looking for jobs you come across a run-down pub looking for bartenders. upon meeting its owner simon, you find out there's more to him than meets the eye. mercenary/vigilante au

the vow (18+) masterlist

summary: you’re betrothed to the future king of Guilder and a fearsome knight is assigned to protect you. medieval au

mini series

never going back again (18+) masterlist

summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup

cards on the table (18+) + soap

summary: ghost and soap place a bet on who can sleep with you first

septem peccata mortalia (18+) masterlist

summary: a collection of oneshots based on the seven deadly sins

pick and go (18+) masterlist

summary: you work as an athletic trainer for the manchester rugby team and accidentally sleep with one of their players rugby au

call me little sunshine (18+) masterlist

summary: you come home for summer break to find a new man has moved in next door, he’s charming and mysterious so you welcome him to the neighbourhood. dark themes

one shots

two birds

everlong

fear of the dark*

something sweet

cherry*

hysteria*

sweet creature

snake mountain blues* (cowboy au)

requests

epiphany

the very first night*

no more tears

forever

in the night

delicate

duality part 2 part 3*

sick day part 2

reaper

threesome (+ könig)*

monster!ghost (+ könig)

angel on my shoulder

mask kink

faked o*

protective!ghost*

jealous!ghost*

sub!ghost*

readers crush on ghost

ghost & cats (gn!reader)

headcanons

ghost x sunshine wife!reader hc

ghosts corruption kink*

ghosts office*

lieutenant ghost*

ghosts breeding kink*

ghosts tongue piercing*

jealous!ghost*

ghost x touched starved so

141 oneshots & headcanons

141 x fem!reader*

141 and calling them daddy

141 x adhd!reader

price x recruit!reader*

under prices desk*

price x adhd!reader

prices superiority kink*

price x noisy!wife*

gaz x sunshine wife!reader hc

homecoming (könig x wife!reader)*

sharp shooter (könig x fem!reader)*

ser schön (könig x gn!reader)*

könig x sunshine wife!reader hc

graves x enemy!reader*

[critical-birb]

Even MORE Age of Calamity things I find funny:

-The Goron/Rito/Gerudo/Zora and Hylian armies all being identical clones for graphical reasons.

-Master Koga having a stress bar that fills up when he gets hit, and if it reaches full he just lays on the ground and kicks and cries like a toddler. The only two ways to prevent this from happening are eating a banana or SHOOTING A DEADLY LAZER FROM YOUR FACE.

-When Koga uses the stasis rune on the sheika slate, he accidently freezes himself instead of the enemy and the Yiga clan beat the shit out of him so he'll go flying into the enemy at high speeds when he's unfrozen.

-The SHEER amount of times Revali says the words "Finally, it is time to show everyone our true power" in cutscenes. Like. My guy. Its been like seven times now. Still waiting.

-The fucking mission where you're in the middle of a war and have to defete the malice hinnox, guardian, talus, as well as the ice/fire/electric moblins - only for Zelda's cutscene being like "...No!!!!! The BLOOD MOON!!!!! THEY'RE BACK!" and for you to immediatly have to fight them all over again akskdjfjfjf. As hilarious as it is frustrating.

-all the characters complimenting one another when they win. Very wholesome. Also them asking for help when they're in trouble. Except Revali who is frequently like "I'm a busy bird - but I supose I can help you if I must" and "I didn't need your help but I supose it's fine you were here."

-Yunobos weapon being a rock roast. Riju's weapon being a hair tie?? What even are the weapons in this game seriously.

-The batshit wild combo moves. Revali's fire tornado, Mipha's mega orb of water drowning bokoblins left right and center and Sidon's mega shark, Literally everything Urbosa does. Then the goofy ones like Koga being picked up by Yiga dudes and carried around and Riju summoning her soldiers to smack people for her.

-Goddess mode Zelda. Babe just floating around glowing like an angel while absolutely obliterating enemies with vibes alone.

-King Rhoams special move being.....changing clothes to look like a wood cutter. Apparently he liked to disguise himself as a mysterious old man even before he died. This also does absolutely nothing in terms of fighting advantages. He literally just changes clothes.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hiya! Could you do a one-shot of Alastor x fem! reader who is like Art the clown (from the terrifier movies, all hallows eve and the ninth circle)?

Perhaps they met when Alastor first got to hell and reader wanted to kill him at first but due to his old fashioned ways (the courting and such) along with him being quite sadistic when it comes to killing, she became more curious about him and it led to a relationship?

How would their relationship be? Would it become more of a one sided thing? Would she try to harm him after he comes back from his seven year absence? I’d love to see your interpretation on this!

~ 🕷️

Terrify Me~

(Anon, I promise I did not forget you! I have never seen these movies and call myself a horror fanatic! So I watched them all as I had the time to try and be better at this writing! I hope you enjoy and stay hydrated!) TW: Torture, Death, assault, Suggestive, Sad, Comfort

Hell was far more entertaining than back up on the earth, though yes, it sucked dying to those damn cops. This was where it was at. You had free reign to torture and torment those around you; the good deal was that people didn’t die permanently as long as you used the right tools. This led to such an easy time finding prey to stalk. It also allowed you to develop incredible powers as people begged and pleaded with you for deals on being free from torment. 

You were a terrifying creature, a black-and-white marionette doll with no voice box. Your movements and attention to detail got you through your life in hell. You were sadistic and cruel to whoever became your prey for the time you spent stalking them, hunting them, and slowly driving your enemy mad. You were so good at the job that people recognized you as an Overlord before even discussing it with you. Of course, who would dare get in your line of sight less you make them the next target? 

You didn’t care about hell’s silly hierarchy or games; you only cared about getting your fill. Your mind was on the prize of listening to beautiful screams and cries. Like a masterful puppet pulling strings, your looks did not portray your abilities all that well. You may have looked like the prey, but you were the top predator. You were deadly, mind, body, and soul.

Years had passed of your reign as the queen of torture till a new man arrived on the scene. Alastor, the radio demon, died not too long after your rise to fame and began to make waves in the underworld as he broadcasted screams of the damned and tortured. His show quickly became one of your favorites, and you would play it as you killed and murdered innocent demonic souls, hoping to make a deal with you for safety. 

Eventually, though, your love and passion for the radio demon's show turned to disgust and hate as he began to take your place in the world of torturing the damned. You had found a new prey to stalk, and it was someone who was equally matched. 

Your stalk began small, with just hushed whispers and knowledge of the man you wished to end. You found photos and some video of him, but it was grainy and distorted. He was a handsome man. He would be so beautiful strung up. As you thought of many ways to torture and abuse him, the next phase of your plan was in order.

Though you were an ‘overlord,’ you never attended meetings. However, you did start when it came to hunting Alastor. Watching his every move and emotion, you saw he was good at mimicking and faking just like you. Yet you had to say you were just that much better at it. When you two first officially met, you could visibly see the disdain on his face when you couldn’t speak. Like many powerful beings, Alastor puts weight on words, something you have no control over, always giving you the upper hand. 

You found every excuse to be around and speak to the man. Eager to move on to stage three of your plan to capture and torment this soul. Actively seeking Alastor out, you began to carry a notepad to speak with him. Small conversations that would sometimes run long. You enjoyed his voice, at least. You thought it would sound lovely, screaming in pain and agony. 

Though you had these sick, twisted thoughts about Alastor, you couldn’t help but be curious about the other feelings he elicited. You wanted to hear him sing, watch him smile, and enjoy his murder. His many good qualities interested you even more. You even sought medical help in the man before you as you didn’t understand these stirrings you had around him and him alone.

As the final plan commenced where you would capture and torture him, you were caught off guard by a single black rose being placed before you. Looking at it and holding it gently, you felt your undead heart flutter. This situation happened many times over and over.

You would go to kill or capture Alastor, and right there, every time you would execute your plan, he would have a trinket or doo dad for you to keep as your own. He began to touch you gently, shoulders, face, sides. Things started to shift in you; you were being courted, and it wasn’t until you experienced this love that you realized it happened: Alastor had you under his spell. 

Your plans of killing Alastor were long gone; now, you just wanted to have the joy of torturing others together. Come a year of your stupid game; you were now officially Alastor's partner in crime. It was charming how he always let you get the first stab and helped you stalk and scare others. He even taught you how to cook and kill the dead sinners. Things were well between you two, so well that domestic life began to become a norm for two sadistic sinners. Yet it all changed one day suddenly. You had been out on a kill someone you and Alastor had stalked for months. However, when you returned covered in blood and a dead body in tow, Alastor was nowhere to be found. You waited a year in that small home you two made, and he never appeared.

After seven long years, you returned to the top of the food chain; you were vicious and cold-hearted. Bloodthirsty. You allowed yourself to be blindsided by a man who couldn’t even say goodbye. Anger consumed you as the years passed, and you became known as the terrifier. You were deadly on a much larger scale than your first time on the scene. You were always longing for Alastor just to come back home. You were longing openly to all that you would kill him and make him pay.

While on the town killing, you heard a familiar buzz. Your blood ran cold as the familiar sound flooded your senses. Running to the old home, you two shared the life long forgotten: you hoped so badly to see him standing there as he once did. Would you kill him? Let him live? Fall into his arms again?

As you entered the house, he wasn’t there. It was still empty, still intact, the same as you left it six years ago. Sighing, you left and walked to the nearest brothel to kill some easy dirtbags. That's when you saw the shadow. Was this a game? Some sick, twisted game to make you think Alastor had come back for you.

Following the shadow, you grew more rabid and curious. Eventually, you found yourself atop a hill where the Hazbin Hotel sat. Walking in, it was silent; it was late at night, and you assumed everyone was asleep. Stepping further into the forbidden territory, you looked around cautiously. It was homey and bright, too bright for your liking, yet some of the decor looked like what you saw in your old home with Alastor.

You felt the presence before you heard it, and suddenly, a bright smile overtook your face. He was here; he was back. Seeing before you Alastor, the radio demon, your lost love, you took a step towards him, afraid it was fake. You don’t know what emotion overtook you the most. You wanted to tear him apart, yet seeing him there, everything felt so surreal. His smile, for once, was authentic, and as he opened his arms out for you and you rushed in, you heard the faintest, “Oh, how you still terrify me…”

[traveler-at-heart]

Finding Home - Part 3

Summary: This is a series imagining what it was life for Natasha after joining S.H.I.E.L.D.

Warnings: Violence, injuries.

Part 1, Part 2

There were only five people in the room.

“Jericho missiles” Fury says as soon as the door is shut. Clint looks at you, alarmed.

“What are those?” Natasha says and Maria turns to the screen.

“Developed by Tony Stark. Selects a target, at a certain height it splits into 16 smaller missiles to have a cleaner impact. The shockwave is also more devastating”

There’s footage of tests conducted in military facilities playing on the screen.

“Obadiah Stane sold five of these to the Ten Rings. Stark was able to destroy them all. Or so he thought” Fury pushes three identical folders in the direction of Clint, Natasha and you.

“There are still two” Clint confirms after skimming through the file.

“At an abandoned factory, close to the Canadian border” Natasha reads out loud, going through all the information at record speed.

“So on a scale of one to ten, how heavily guarded are these bad boys?” you ask Fury.

“They have grenades up their asses”

“So, like a seven”

“Not funny, Agent” he warns, but you turn to Natasha, who let out a small chuckle.

“She thinks it is”

“It will get old really fast. Trust me” the man says and she rolls her eyes. “You leave tomorrow, before the Ten Rings decide it’s time to light up the sky in an American city”

“Let’s go over strategy today. Natasha’s suit and weapons should be ready” Maria proposes.

“I’m looking at the Widow Bites” you interrupt.

“Farley said that if you messed with his tech again he’d quit” Fury reminds you.

“Good riddance. He’s an idiot and she’s not going on a mission with faulty equipment”

“Fine. Hill” Fury nods in confirmation and they leave the room.

“What was that?” Natasha turns to you, but you shrug your shoulders, projecting the map of the factory and reading the file.

“Oh, now you’re modest about it?” Clint teases. “Y/N here is an MIT graduate. Mechanical Engineering, top of the class”

“It was a small class”

“If she wasn’t an agent she’d be running the design department. Made my arrows ten times lighter and faster. Deadly too”

“That’s enough. I just want to make sure Nat has the best equipment” you wave dismissively, still looking at the map.

It’s an important mission, yes. But your priority is Natasha.

—

“Fucking Farley” you mutter for the tenth time, making Clint chuckle.

As suspected, the Widow Bites have a short range and the voltage isn’t enough to incapacitate enemies, so you’ll be fixing that as everyone else discusses the plan.

“Y/N is coming in first. Once she disables the security, Romanoff and I will go set the explosives for the missiles” Clint says, going over the map of the warehouse.

“I’m not leaving her alone” Natasha says and while you keep your eyes on the Widow bites, correcting the wiring, you smile.

“It’s fine, Nat. It’s my area of expertise. I’ll hack their systems, keep an eye out and will join you once the explosives are set” you look up, nodding her way. Maria walks in, looking over your shoulder. “Tell Fury he needs to kick fuckface Farley to the curve”

“Noted, Brains. Which one of you will be Brawn?” Maria turns, smiling teasingly at Natasha and Clint.

“I’m Beauty” Clint says, turning to Natasha. “Romanoff?”

“Sorry to break it to you, but Natasha is all three” you say, removing the magnifying glasses and stretching your back. “Is it dinner time yet?”

“Our order should be ready. I’ll pick it up” Natasha offers, taking the car keys.

“Don’t forget about the…”

“Extra rice, yes” she rolls her eyes and Clints follows right behind, ready to take a break.

Maria sits right next to you, and you don’t need to turn around to know she’s staring.

“Yes, Hill?”

“So when are you asking her out?”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, come on” she pushes your chair and you roll away, annoyed. “You compliment her, she knows about your special order, the pining and the heart eyes”

“I’m one of the few people who treat her like a human being. That’s all” you say, hoping it’s the end of the conversation. Maria throws you a paper ball, just like in your academy days and you snort. “Ass. Yes, I like her. But she’s barely had a life. I can’t ask her out and make it awkward. Natasha needs to live and experience things and once she knows what she wants… maybe I’ll do something about my feelings. Until then…” you point at your friend, and she nods, motioning as if her lips are sealed.

You just hope your feelings for Natasha won’t get in the way of this mission.

—

The air is colder than you anticipated.

“Good to go?” Clint says, looking over his shoulder. You try your comms and go over the equipment. Once you nod, he lowers the jet, counting down to prepare you for the fall.

“Be careful” Natasha says. It’s the first things she’s said to you since you left headquarters.

“Chinese for dinner?” you say with a smile, hoping that it will ease the tension. Natasha nods and you wave, jumping into the darkness.

The landing is a bit rougher than you would have wanted since the parachute was dragged around by the wind, but nothing is broken and you can disable the security alarm in the hatch.

From there, your next stop is to the control room. There’s only one man monitoring the cameras, and you knock him unconscious before he can reach for his gun.

“I’m in. You have twenty minutes” you announce.

“Got it”

Out of pure curiosity, you look over at the computer on the side, browsing through the files.

“Clint” you say as you stumble upon Stark’s designs.

“I’m kinda busy” he says, installing the explosives around the warehouse.

“They have intelligence on other Stark weaponry. Should I make a copy and then clean up their files?”

“Proceed. But be on the lookout, we’re almost done here”

“I can multitask” you say, pulling out a drive to copy all the files. The encryption will have to be done later, but for now, eliminating everything they have should be enough.

Either way, the entire building is blowing up in a few minutes.

An alarm blares across every hallway, and you look up, surprised.

“What the fuck, Y/N? We’re not done here” Barton barks, clearly in a hurry to finish the job now that you’ve been discovered.

“It wasn’t me” you say, frantically looking at the cameras. There’s a man with long hair that frames his face, covered up to his eyes with a dark mask. “We have company. I’m locking the doors on your side, exit through the vent”

“That means you won’t be able to get out” Natasha protests.

“I’ll find another way and meet you. You have to go. Our friend here seems to be… in a hurry”

Your blood runs cold when you see him punching his way through the guards. He is a super soldier, judging by his strenght and now you’re trapped with him on this side of the building.

“Fuckfuckfuck”

Pulling the drive to your pocket, you leave the room and go to the side farthest away from the man.

The thing is, he seems to be going through the walls instead of using doors, so the distance grows smaller with each of his steps.

“Natasha is gone” Clint informs you as you’re sneaking around. That makes you stop in your tracks.

“Bullshit”

She wouldn’t.

“The minute we were out she ran away in the opposite direction. I’m on the jet now. Give me your location”

“East side of the…”

The sound of metal and concrete cracking surprises you from behind, and you come face to face with the man.

He takes your gun and twists your arm, but you aim at one of the pipes in the ceiling to give you a few seconds to run. You can feel him going right behind you, dangerously close.

“The building is blowing up in five minutes, Y/N” Clint says.

“Thanks, I’m trying not to get killed by fucking Frankenstein” a heavy metal arm pulls you down, punching you two times until you’re gasping for air.

He then kicks you down a couple of stairs, and you hang on to the railing by an inch. Once he glances over to check if you’re still alive, you shoot at his eyes, protected by the mask.

Wrong move, as he’s not pleased in the slightest.

Dropping a few feet to the ground, you begin to run down the exit.

A few things happen at the same time.

You turn and see Natasha, breaking a door. You smile at her. Of course she wouldn’t leave. Her eyes widen, and when you turn around, the man is raising his gun.

Two shots and then you’re down, hot liquid spilling down your stomach and leg.

“Y/N” Natasha screams, throwing Widow Bites to the man. His arm is briefly paralized and Natasha takes advantage of the moment to help you up. You limp against her, feeling the building shake.

“Come on, Clint is waiting outside”

Luckily, the ceiling behind you begins to fall, putting some concrete between you and the man.

The next minutes are confusing, since you struggle to remain conscious.

“HQ, this is Barton. We have an agent down. We’ll be there soon” you hear Clint report. There’s a pressure in your abdomen but you can’t look down. “Natasha, I have to fly this thing, keep her awake”

“Y/N” the woman says, trying to stop the bleeding. “Look at me. You can’t fall asleep now”

“I’ll be fine. You were great today, Natasha. I knew you’d be a great agent. Would you tell my mom that I…?”

“Tell her yourself”

“Don’t be a сука” you mumble, your eyelids heavier.

“What is the one thing you always wanted to do?” she asks, desperate to keep you talking.

“I always wanted a cat. My sister’s allergic” you drag your words. But then, you turn to the redhead, smiling. “What about you?”

“A rollercoaster” Natasha says without hesitation. Your smile grows.

“We’ll go to Connie Island, it’s gonna be so much fun…”

“Y/N, stay with me, don’t close your eyes”

But you’re too tired to listen.

—

“Her family should be here any minute” Fury steps in, eyeing your bruised face. Three surgeries later and the doctors think you have a pretty good chance of recovering.

Natasha and Clint are sitting by your side, their eyes glued to the monitor that keeps beeping.

“The man… had any of you seen him before?”

“I thought he was a myth” Natasha says, the image of the metal arm and the symbol on it etched on her brain. “They call him the Winter Soldier”

“KGB?” Clint guesses.

“HYDRA”

“That’s ten times worse” Fury sighs, turning to the Russian. “We’ll need your help to figure out who he is. But for now… nice job”

“I should have done more” Natasha says when Fury leaves the room.

“She’s alive because of you” Clint protests. “But you should let me know, I thought you were running away. When you want to pull a rescue, at least tell me where to fly the jet”

“Ok” the redhead nods.

“Let’s get something to eat. You know Y/N wouldn’t want you to starve yourself”

—

When Natasha and Clint come back to your room, Maria is talking to an older woman. She has eyes like yours, and a smilar hair color, which makes Natasha think it’s your mother.

“You saved my daughter” she says as soon as Natasha walks in. Your mother hugs her tight, thanking her.

She has no idea that this is all new to Natasha, especially the hugging part.

“Let’s go over some forms” Maria rescues the redhead, walking the older woman to the door.

Her words echo and Natasha goes over them till she loses count.

She’s never saved a life before. She never had someone thanking her for keeping a loved one safe.

Maybe, there’s hope for her after all.

—

It’s been a few days and you have yet to open your eyes.

Natasha stays next to you, and reads out loud the way you did for her. Your mom is in the couch, knitting as she listens, keeping an eye on the girl.

Even if she’s not aware of Natasha’s circunstamces, she can tell there are strong feelings involved between you two.

“How long have you been at SHIELD?” the woman says, examining the green pattern on the scarf she’s knitting.

“Not long” Natasha tenses, hoping it won’t be necessary to bring up her past as a former assassin.

“Y/N’s father was in the CIA. Her sisters were more… I don’t know. They argued over clothes and wanted to wear makeup. Y/N would work on cars with her dad or build stuff”

“That sounds nice”

“It was, yes. Drives me crazy that she risks her life for a living. But it’s in her blood, I guess”

“She’s a great agent. And a wonderful person. You did a good job raising her”

“You’re too kind” the woman says, pulling the scarf and presenting it to the redhead. “Here. This color brings out your beautiful eyes”

Natasha is hesitant as she takes the green scarf, inspecting the fine knitting and feeling the softness of the fabric against her fingertips.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you”

“Thank you. For saving her. I’m happy to know my daughter has wonderful partners. I like you, Natasha”

“I’m glad to hear that, because I kinda gave her the secret pasta recipe” you say with a weak voice, making both women rush to your side.

“Oh, sweetheart” your mom says, running her hands through your hair.

“Sorry to make you come all the way here. I know you hate flying”

“No, don’t be silly. Plus, I’ve spent some time getting to know Natasha. You guys make a great couple”

“Ma!” you protest, the monitor beeping loudly as your mother teases you. “Would you be a dear and get the doctor? I really want to eat something that isn’t hospital food”

Your mother rolls her eyes, but leaves and you stare at Natasha.

“Thank you for saving me”

“It’s nothing”

“It’s not nothing. I’m alive because of you, Natasha Romanoff”

“I guess it’s our thing, isn’t it? Saving each other” she smiles, her hand inching towards yours.

“Yes. Yes it is”

—

The doctor promises you’ll be discharged in a few days, but there’s a long road ahead for your recovery. At least six months without missions.

Fury stops by, surprising you.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, eyeing the box of chocolates that Maria brought you. “You mind?”

“Help yourself, boss” he picks a sweet and nods approvingly, clearly stalling. “Come on, you’re not one to sugarcoat things”

“The drive you took. It does have some very detailed information on Stark’s tech. I know we discussed an undercover mission a while back… but I decided to send Natasha instead”

“As what? I was supposed to be a new engineer on his team”

“Legal. Close to Pepper Potts. And hopefully, Agent Romanoff will charm Stark”

“Oh, Nick. Come on, not the playboy angle” you protest. There’s an unpleasant feeling at the pit of your stomach as you imagine Natasha dealing with Stark’s advances.

“It is what we have, Y/L/N. Take some time, recover and come back. I have a feeling we’ll need all the help we can get”

“Yes, Director Fury” you nod, as Natasha walks in. The man nods, and you can tell he trusts Natasha now. It’s a relief.

“How are you feeling?” Natasha says, pulling the usual chair next to your bed.

“Happy that I get to go home. soon Not so excited over my mom running around my place cleaning and complaining”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could stay but…”

“You have missions. I heard you’re booked and busy, Agent Romanoff”

“Well, yes” she smiles, blushing lightly.

“Is that what you want? Because that’s all that matters to me”

“I want to do good. Clean my ledger”

“You’ll do great. I know it” you reach for her hand, smiling.

“I could… put it off. For a few months. It won’t be a big deal”

But you can see how eager she is. To prove herself she’s so much more than the Red Room. That she’s not just the Black Widow.

She’s Natasha Romanoff.

“I’m not going anywhere, Nat. You’ll always have me. Ok?”

“Ok” she nods, looking away, but keeping her hand in yours.

Deep down, you knew this was only the start of your journey together.

[pjmmania]

To Be a Viper - Prologue

Content Warnings: mentions of death, illegal/forced drug use

—————

The twenty-seven-year-old brunette adorned his torso with a grey jacket to match his classic-cut pants. Beneath the jacket was a simple white button-up, with a few buttons left undone near the collar. Everything was freshly pressed and smoothed to perfection, courtesy of the maid.

Standing in front of a full-body mirror, he leaned down and toyed with his hair a bit. He wanted it parted in the middle and mostly out of his face. Past experiences informed him that this was the best way to arrange it when he wanted to attract the opposite sex, and tonight was an important catch.

Suddenly, the young man heard the doorknob twist. It made him stand up straighter, as he knew it was probably his boss. He was one of the few who had a copy of the key to this hotel suite.

Correct in his assumption, his eyes fell upon the man's reflection in the mirror as he entered.

The boss, who also served as an older brother figure to him, was clad in much more casual clothing. He wasn't the one going out on this little mission. It was a solo job.

Crossing his arms over his simple black t-shirt, the boss smirked and cocked a brow, "Ah, you went with the Celine."

The younger went back to fixing his hair in the mirror, "So I did."

"I would have gone with the Louis Vuitton," The boss shrugged, "With the pinstripes. I love a good pinstripe."

Eyes were rolled, but he knew it was a jest, "You asked that I pull out all the stops. Trust me, I've never missed with this one. Women love it.”

The boss hummed and took a seat in the plush brown armchair in the corner of the room. Not quite as comfortable as the ones he owned back home, but this grand hotel had managed to find furniture that compared somewhat. Somewhat.

"You are due to leave soon so I won’t take up much of your time. I came to remind you to be quick," The boss said, "And careful."

He chuckled lowly, "Quick and careful are not words I’d use to describe the average rendezvous between a woman and myself.”

The boss became irate. The situation was extremely delicate, "I'm fucking serious, Taehyung."

"And I'm fucking joking, Jimin," The younger turned around once more to look at his eyes and reassure him, "I'm not an idiot. I know the objective."

"Not the time for joking," Jimin scowled with a tight jaw and intense eyes, "You need to bring her back unharmed, understand me?”

"I won’t harm a hair on her head, hyung," Taehyung put his hands up in defense, "Jesus Christ."

The boss sighed and leaned forward in the chair, resting his arms on his quadriceps, "Well excuse me for feeling slightly uncomfortable with sending one of my assassins to go kidnap this one. I swear to God, the only reason I'm sending you is-"

"Because I'm the only face here that our enemies wouldn't recognize, I know. You've made that abundantly clear every time we've talked about this job," Taehyung muttered, "You need to just fucking relax, huh? I got this.”

Jimin didn’t appreciate the cockiness and nonchalance in his subordinate. He knew how Taehyung could be with women. And while he needed him to go out and do the job, the thought of him seducing this particular target left a sour taste. He got up out of the chair and walked up to the suited, arrogant man.

Taehyung took in the leader’s face. His eyes could tear through metal, callous and deadly. Jimin got close to his face, staring him down and speaking lowly, “I have no doubt that you ‘got this’ Taehyung. But let me make another thing abundantly clear to you. This job isn’t a chance for you to get your dick wet. So go, flirt all you want and make her want to leave with you. But if you make your flirtations physical, there will be hell to pay."

Taehyung was silent. This exercise of power wasn’t necessarily new, but the motivation behind it was. He and the others had never seen their leader become so fiercely protective over someone who wasn’t his own. Someone who was, at this point in time, a stranger to them.

The younger knew better than to push back any further. Finally, he dropped the tone, “I understand.”

Jimin nodded once, his searing eye contact unyielding, “Good. Now put on some cologne and head out. Jungkook is waiting for you with the car.”

Taehyung sighed and proceeded to follow instructions.

The boss remained glued to the same spot, hands in his pockets. Watching his junior finish up, he subconsciously bit the inside of his cheek, unsettled in his gut.

Over the many years he’d spent in the business, he’d grown numb to it all. The blood, the theft, the torture, the kidnapping. It was all just part of this enormous task that had fallen into his lap years ago. Tonight, however, caused a stir within him. The nonchalance had been drained from his demeanor, replaced by a deep concern.

Before he noticed, Taehyung was at the door of the hotel suite, ready to leave, “Alright, I’m set. Anything else?”

Jimin’s gaze turned the opposite direction, towards the window at the other end of the room. Seoul was on the other side of that glass, aglow in the night. Busy, bustling, alive. The streets filling with people who had clocked out of work a few hours ago, now ready to let everything fall away at some bar or nightclub.

“Jimin?”

The older of the two didn’t move. His mind pondered various responses to Taehyung’s question. As much as he wanted to reiterate his order to be careful, there was no need to go down that road again. He knew all he needed to know.

“No,” Jimin said, “That is all. I’ll meet you back here in the morning.”

The door shut, and the job commenced.

The boss let out a breath he didn’t realize he was withholding, posture falling slightly.

This is really happening, he thought.

What he wanted least in the world was coming to pass - seeing you again.

He tried so hard for so long to avoid this. Bringing you into this mess was to inflict a permanent wound on you that would never heal. Old memories of you flashed in his mind. Some almost brought a smile to his face, only to be tainted by the fact that he was about to erase that version of you forever.

He remembered the day he said goodbye to you unknowingly for the last time. Had he known, he would have held you tighter, longer. He would have told you how much your friendship meant to him. How bright you made his days.

- Eleven years ago -

The cold steel of the locker created goosebumps on his arm as he leaned against it. The final bell of the day had rung and the hallway was flooded with students, some brushing against his other arm by accident in the swarm to exit the building.

Seventeen-year-old Jimin let out a sigh, pushing a few pieces of hair out of his face when he saw this one clique of girls pass by. He knew a few of them crushed on him and, though he'd never admit it, he enjoyed doing small things like that to work them up. One of them was named Hana. She was the one he had his sights on. An adolescent male like him couldn't help it.

Then you appeared and Jimin picked his backpack up from the floor, slinging it over his right shoulder. He also moved himself away from your locker so that you could access it.

"Hey you." You sighed as you used your typical greeting.

"Hey you. What took you so long?" He chided you, "Usually you're the one waiting for me."

You put your bag down with a huff, "Sorry. I had a question for Mrs. Choi after class and apparently so did many others."

Jimin, as per routine, took the opportunity to make fun of you, "Fucking dork, having questions about art history of all things."

You took it on the chin and returned the fire with a smirk, "You're one to talk. You stay after calculus all the time."

You dialed the correct series of numbers to unlock your locker and opened it.

"Advanced calculus." The ham corrected you.

Your eyes rolled as you retrieved your things from your locker and stuffed them into your backpack, "Whatever. The point is, we're both dorks. Just for different things."

Oh how he relished getting under your skin like that. He loved how your face looked when you became flustered. You might have been able to put on a grin, but your eyebrows would remain the tiniest bit serious. Having been your close companion since he was seven and you six, Jimin was an expert on your every expression.

"Hurry up, will you?" He continued pushing your buttons, "I'd like to get home."

You let out an audible sigh this time - another point for Jimin in the game of vexing you, "Then why don't you just leave without me and I'll walk?"

He laughed, "Because your parents would revoke my invitation to dinner with you guys on Sunday night."

You chuckled as you zipped up your backpack, "You know they would never. You're like a son to them. You and your brother. They wouldn't have you guys alone in that giant house while your parents are away for the weekend."

The two of you finally began your walk out of the building and into the parking lot. His car was always tucked away at the back of the lot.

Though your friendship was strong enough for both of you to feel relaxed with silent air between you, there was something you had been meaning to bring up. It was your turn to tease him.

"So," You said with a hint of mischief, "I heard Hana is having a party tomorrow night."

You watched his face change. His lips pursed as he tried not to smile. However, this attempt to appear unbothered was futile.

Your arms brushed together as you nudged him, "You going?"

Jimin shrugged and kept his focus on the way ahead, "I may drop by if I hear it's a good time."

You laughed, "Just go. You know she's only having it because she wants you to fuck her again."

His face went slightly red, causing him to dip his head down and chuckle. Then he lifted his gaze to meet your teasing eyes, "I am not used to you talking like this, Y/N. So vulgar these days. The fuck happened to you?"

"Sorry," You giggled, "No need to be too concerned, though. Despite the words I say, you know I have no actual experience in that department."

You came upon his car at last. Jimin unlocked it, causing the lights to flash twice. As he threw his backpack into the back seat, he said, "Well when you do, feel free to not tell me every detail."

"You're avoiding the topic at hand," You said as you got situated in the passenger seat, "You're going to the party, right?"

"Yes," Jimin let out an exasperated laugh, "Jesus Christ, Y/N. I'm going. Happy?"

You made a face and played with the strap adjusters on your bag, which was resting on your lap, "I mean I'm grossed out at the thought of you and her...doing stuff."

Jimin closed his door and turned on the engine, "You mean me fucking her?"

"Ew, Jiminie!"

"Hey, I'm just using the same term you did."

"Lesson learned.” You huffed.

Jimin smiled. There was that flustered face of yours again. He found it cute and naive as you tried to speak the language of your peers. It just didn't come naturally to you.

He pulled out of the parking lot and began the drive to your house, which was conveniently on the same street as his. You both lived in a beautiful, gated community, home to the most illustrious families in Seoul. You moved in when you were just a small child. Jimin and his brother were the only other kids around, so naturally your families became close. You'd grown up together, gone to the same private schools, and hung out in the same social circles. To an outside eye, you appeared inseparable.

Did it deter some prospects away from both of you when it came to matters of the heart? Undeniably, yes. But it wasn't enough to force you to give up on your friendship. After all, girls seemed to be all over Jimin despite his closeness to you.

The car ride was filled with more banter, some gossip, and discussion of weekend plans. He was hanging out with his guy friends that night and going to Hana's party the next.

As always, the time passed quickly and he was pulling up your driveway before you realized.

You got out of the car, throwing your backpack over one shoulder, "Alright, I'll see you Sunday, I assume."

"Wait, you're not going to Hana's tomorrow?"

You smirked, "I'd rather not witness your flirtations."

"Oh come on," He tilted his head and grinned cheekily, "Her house is enormous. You wouldn't have to see me at all. It will be fun."

You considered it and decided maybe it could be fun. If it was bound to turn into a big party, then all of your other friends would be there too.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I guess I’ll go. We are Ubering, though. I’m not being your designated driver this time.”

You had turned sixteen a few months back and your parents were beginning to trust you with drinking with friends. They weren’t thrilled, as you were technically still underage, but they knew the culture and accepted it in certain circumstances. As long as you abided by your curfew and didn’t get into trouble, it was fine.

Jimin smiled at you with both eyes and lips, "I knew you'd come around. See you tomorrow."

"Bye Jiminie." You closed the passenger door and waved.

Then he reversed the vehicle out of your long black driveway. By the time he drove away in the direction of his own home, you had already turned your back to him.

__________

That was it, the last time he saw you. It was an unceremonious end to a treasured, deep friendship. The following day, the Park Family moved away. Over the following weeks, both of your lives turned upside down, but in very different ways.

That kind of light had evaded his life since you parted over a decade prior. Sure, he had made deep bonds with the men who worked for him. They were his brothers - he would and had killed for them. Still, nothing compared to the companionship he had with you. It was so innocent and sweet, a reminder that he used to exist in the world unplagued by this madness.

Jimin turned around to face the mirror. The man who reflected back was radically different from the boy who grew up with that sweet, vivacious girl. His face was sharper and his eyes darker, carrying a sinister look about them that struck fear into those who dared to cross him. His hair was an ashy blonde color, a consequence of having to change his appearance from time to time. In this business, that was par for the course.

Taehyung's suite included a kitchenette. Jimin went over to the little bar area and swooped up a fifth of whiskey. He gulped twice before twisting the cap back on and setting it down. He would return to his own suite and wait for the notification of your arrival.

"Why are we doing shots of whiskey?" you whined, "I hate whiskey."

Your elder cousin, Aera, snickered as she practically forced the full shot glass into your hand, "Because we're fucking celebrating!"

Your other cousin and Aera's twin brother, Eoduun, joined in the silliness by raising his glass in the middle for a toast, "To our Y/N, who is finally back in Seoul after three long years abroad. Studying paintings and shit in Europe."

"Being an art curator." You corrected with a shake of your head, though you couldn't help but laugh.

Eoduun paid no mind and went on, "May this night remind her of all the good things about Seoul and convince her to move back."

You put your hand over your eyes and kept shaking your head as the three of you clinked your small glasses together. When it came time to down the dark liquor, you braced yourself and made it quick.

You winced when it passed your tongue, "Damn that's awful. If anything, don't you think soju would be more appropriate after not being in Seoul for so long?"

Aera played with your hair a bit, "Look around you, Y/N. This is the nicest, most exclusive nightclub in the city. No one wants soju here. They come here for something different than the everyday."

Observing your surroundings, you saw that she was right. No one had bottles of soju at their tables. It was all expensive champagne and top-shelf liquors. People were loud and dressed to the nines, some sitting at quilted red velvet booths and others standing at the various bars and pool tables. You would be hard-pressed to find anyone clad in non-designer clothing.

As for you, a black sleeveless mock-neck top underneath a beige Ralph Lauren blazer did the trick. You paired it with a black mini-skirt and the signature red-bottom pumps. A habit you picked up in Europe was dressing in the classics. Stick to that, and one can never appear out of style.

“Anyway,” Eoduun leaned forward across the table, his glossy black hair reflecting the blue and purple lighting above, “Are you here to stay?”

You pursed your lips together. It was endearing that they clearly wanted you to move back home - only it didn’t feel like home for you anymore. Not since you lost your parents. Their deaths left you feeling untethered to this city, regardless of the fact that your Uncle Yohan and cousins still resided within its bounds,

“I don’t know,” you fibbed, “Maybe. I do really enjoy Europe.”

Aera hummed, “The museums, the statues, the elegance, the old money.”

“Which is funny, because you come from some of the oldest money in this country.” Eoduun added.

Thankfully, the twins dropped the subject after that. It was obviously making you squirm, and tonight was about having fun.

The drinks began flowing steadier. You danced, laughed your heart out, and reminisced on old times. The latter occurred when you were sitting in your booth, significantly less sober than when you arrived.

The stillness of sitting down gave your mind the bandwidth to wander to all sorts of things about your past. A dangerous game for you, as it always led you to what you hated remembering the most - or rather, who.

The Park boy who disappeared abruptly all those years ago. The friend who was ripped out of your life without so much as a proper goodbye or warning. It left a scar deep inside you that you never wanted to graze. Yet every now and then, in drunken moments like these, his beaming face would flash across your mind. Maybe he and his family moved away, or maybe he was dead. You had no idea.

You learned over the years not to verbalize his memory. If you didn’t bring it up, it would fade away faster and the feeling inside you would pass.

It helped that Aera was a chatty individual, always having something else to talk about. With a slurred vocabulary, she began asking you about the lack of sunshine in London or something like that. It was unclear to you, because right at that moment, you caught the eye of some stranger standing at the bar.

Perfect timing, you thought. An even better distraction had come along to save you.

He was in a beautiful grey suit, peering at you with eyes unlike any you’d ever seen. His face was otherworldly, and when he smiled? Oh, that smug little grin was more attractive than you would have preferred to admit.

Your cousins noticed you staring.

“Y/N’s got a little heartthrob over there.” Eoduun remarked.

“Go talk to him!” Aera encouraged with an obnoxious giggle, “He’s hot!”

“No,” her brother protested, “This is a family outing.”

“Oh let her live!” She returned.

“Yeah, Eoduun,” you smirked back at him, “Let me live. Then maybe you can go strike up a conversation with that girl in the sequin dress you’ve been gawking at all night.”

“Not interested, actually,” he said in between sips of his scotch, “Something about the way she carries herself that I don’t like.”

“What high standards,” the other twin rolled her eyes and then turned her focus to you, “Go talk to him. Just text us if you plan on leaving with him.”

You smiled and gave her a familial kiss on her cheek as a means of thanking her.

That gorgeous man watched you rise from your seat and maintained his grin. You subtly adjusted your skirt as you approached him, hoping your gait didn’t appear too intoxicated and trying not to stumble in your heels.

“Can I help you with something?” He asked you. His elbow rested in the bar top, while his other hand was occupied with something on the rocks.

You played with your handbag a bit, “That’s funny. I saw you staring at me and came over to ask you the same thing.”

He chuckled, “Taehyung.”

“Y/N.”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you in jest,“You haven’t answered my question, Y/N.”

You laughed and further closed the gap between the two of you, “You can get me a drink, as a matter of fact.”

“I’d be much obliged.” He nodded, setting his own drink down on the counter. He then shifted his body to make room for you to come stand next to him, “What will you have?”

You had been consuming mostly gin-based cocktails the whole night. You thought it better to stick with that and requested a dirty martini. Taehyung ordered it for you.

As the bartender began the creation of your next beverage, you continued to chat, “A nice suit, Taehyung. What is it, Celine?”

The handsome man raised his brows and chuckled, tilting his glass toward you, “Very good. You have an eye for fashion, clearly.”

You noticed his gaze scanning your own attire and detected a hint of lust behind it.

Taehyung remarked, “I’m afraid I can’t name the designer, but I do find it ravishing.”

You giggled as the bartender handed you the martini, “Ravishing? What an old-fashioned word.”

“You strike me as someone who likes the classics,” he shrugged, “Besides, I’m a gentleman, Y/N. I would never dream of offending a woman with lower terms…Unless she wanted me to.”

That did it. Your cheeks felt warm with infatuation. You tried to mask the smile that was begging to appear from your glossed lips. Still, you had to play the game if you wanted this to keep going.

Successfully you reeled in the giddiness and replaced it with a relaxed, confident smile. You simply clinked your glass with his as a reply. This caused your newfound companion to bite his bottom lip ever so slightly in a smirk.

The two of you continued to talk over the next hour. You learned he was raised in Geochang and had a job in some marketing firm in the city. When asked the same question, you told him that you were born and raised in Seoul, having recently returned from a stint abroad curating art. He seemed to find that fascinating and asked for more information about your favorite pieces and whatnot.

He would touch your hips occasionally, increasing your want. You wondered when he would lean in for the kiss or take you out onto the floor to dance. However, it was unbeknownst to you that he had been given strict orders not to cross that line.

His boss failed to mention that adhering to this guideline might be challenging. He said nothing about you having a wit or your seduction tactics. This job was proving to be a test of Taehyung's restraint.

Eventually, you saw Aera and Eoduun leave their booth and hit the dance floor, no longer paying mind to this interaction.

It was while you were looking away to locate them that Taehyung made the killing blow.

He propped his elbow up on the bar to appear casual to any wandering eyes. When the coast seemed to be clear, he lowered his hand as if to lay it on the surface of the counter. During this millisecond, he dropped the small substance into your drink.

You turned back to face him a few seconds later, none the wiser.

As you took another sip of your drink, the man texted on his phone briefly and discreetly. You enjoyed how suave he looked doing even the most basic things.

As the flirtations went on, Taehyung observed you doom yourself sip after sip. He knew that time was running out, so he leaned into you and said directly in your ear, "It's getting a little rowdy in here, huh?"

You put on a charming smile and leaned right back into him, touching his upper arm with your free hand, "I couldn't agree more."

You were so close that you could feel his exhale on your nose. He said lowly, "Would you like to go back to my place? I have some art you can critique."

You laughed, and then nodded, "I'd love to."

As he led you toward the exit of the club, you remembered to shoot Aera and Eoduun a text. Doing so proved a bit difficult - your vision was getting a little fuzzy. You chalked it up to having one too many drinks and nothing more.

Your escort noticed that you had looped your arm in his. You played it off as a cute little gesture, but the reality was that you needed the support to walk in a straight line. Taehyung knew the signs of the drug taking effect, and this was certainly one of them.

He sped things along, hoping to find his colleague waiting for them on the curb as planned.

By the time the two of you reached the doors, the black Range Rover with tinted windows was parked and ready to go.

"Here we are." The man in the grey suit grinned.

You were now in considerably worse shape and asked, "Did you...did you call us an Uber?"

"Of course I did," Taehyung played it cool and put his arm around you to offer more support without drawing too much attention, "Luckily he was in the area and could get here in a minute."

"Oh. That's convenient."

When he opened the door to the backseat, he made immediate eye contact with the driver, Jungkook. You were too busy stepping up into the vehicle to notice the two of them nodding at one another.

Your new acquaintance climbed in after you and shut the door.

The driver played the part well and asked, "How are you both doing tonight?"

You could see his round, curious eyes in the rearview mirror. While Taehyung shot him a glare, you replied, "Great, though a little drunk."

Jungkook chuckled as he put the car into gear. He got a kick out of playing with people like this, especially when his boss wasn’t around to chide him for it.

The Range Rover rolled back into the correct lane and began the short drive to Josun Palace, the most opulent hotel in the city.

In the backseat, you started to lean your head on Taehyung’s shoulder. You had slipped into the blackout territory.

The man sitting next to you told the driver, “Hurry up, will you? I think she needs to get to bed.”

Jungkook glanced back at you in the rearview mirror. He had to reach their destination with haste, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to walk yourself up to the suite and draw attention.

A couple minutes later, they arrived. Jungkook parked the car and together they whisked you out and hurried you inside. You were too far gone to even notice that you weren’t at Taehyung’s apartment, but at a hotel.

You were muttering things they couldn’t understand, vision extremely distorted. Your legs felt like they were barely attached to you. The only thing that really registered with your system was the change in lighting, from a night sky to artificial brightness.

The two men moved with urgency, yet hid it by acting all happy. They made it look as if the three of you were hammered, laughing and talking. This diminished any concerns others might have had for you. You were simply a group of intoxicated young people, not a kidnapping in-action.

The journey up to the top floors felt like ten hours to you. When the elevator let out onto the correct floor, you were in the final stages, ready to pass out at any moment.

The two abductors moved swiftly, Taehyung pulling out his room key.

Their boss was waiting for them inside, sitting in a lounge. The room was dimly lit, curtains shut.

Park Jimin had seen many disturbing things in this life. He’d seen bloodshed, gore, unimaginable horrors. Things that seemed impossible to make amends with and yet he had. The sight before him now, of you, eyes halfway closed being held up by his men, was another matter. It twisted his guts.

You looked so pathetic, so weak. Your body was almost entirely limp, head hanging low.

The boss’s jaw clenched as he swallowed, "Well done, both of you."

Taehyung scoffed, "I did most of the work."

Jimin glared at him, "Shut the fuck up and get her on the bed."

They followed his order, one scooping you up by the knees and the other by your shoulders. You were hoisted onto the bed, now fully unconscious.

The leader approached you with a caution that left his subordinates confused. He was slow and silent, observing your faltered body. His face showed resolve, but his body language showed regret. He wished for years that this would never have to happen, and it had come to pass.

Jungkook asked with hesitation, "Are we...Are we good?"

Jimin looked at them and nodded once, "Yes. However, I've decided to stay here with her. Tae, get your stuff. You may sleep in my suite instead."

Within a few minutes, the pair left. The boss pulled a chair up next to the bed and began his watch over you. The drug would likely induce some unfavorable side effects and he was best positioned to care for you if and when they appeared.

He turned off all other lights in the suite, save one lamp on the nightstand between you and him. It provided enough lighting for him to study your face. Your features were completely relaxed, some of your eye makeup smudged, lips slightly parted.

It was still close to unfathomable that he was really looking at you, after all the years. Jimin had taken you back into his life by force, and a few hours prior, it felt terrible. But now that you were here in his sights, there was a twinge of happiness in his hardened heart.

For the rest of the night, Jimin sat in that chair, occasionally dozing off and waking himself back to a state of alert. Waiting for you to wake up, and wondering what would happen when you did.

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Care for an AU idea?

Missing Hearts AU, with dark SBI and fantasy/sci-fi setting. (Dark themes, death, mind control, magic, coercion, graphic descriptions. Really I'm just throwing all possible warnings in there just in case.)

Technoblade is a soldier---one of many---who is completely loyal to the Federation's cause. He has no choice.

The Federation, once a loose association of various planets, now a military complex held together by fear mongering and nepotism, has been at war with the Empire long enough to completely restructure the government, long enough that Technoblade cannot recall a time without war or find its start, and long enough to develop some less than savory tactics.

Heartless, they are called, by civilians, by the enemy, and by the heartless themselves. Completely loyal, ruthless, deadly, precise, nearly impossible for an enemy to kill and stronger than any mundane soldier. The Heartless are feared across the Federation and Empire alike. The only group who doesn't use the name are the officials, the Oligarchy at the head of the Federation and their commanders. After all, they know full well where the soldiers hearts are. They're the ones who keep them, after all. Weaving spell after spell to keep the hearts beating, to stifle unwanted generosity, to take their fear, to bind their loyalty, to keep them strong. To kill when a soldier gets out of hand.

Technoblade only saw it once. For the most part, the heartless are kept in check by their fear and the magic beating their hearts. There's no real chance for rebellion, loyalty tied so tightly to their being that it's nearly suffocating. There is failure, though. Any heartless deemed a regular enough failure, a waste of resources, is immediately terminated.

They'd just gotten off a mission. Botched, sure, but they'd pulled off most of it and gotten out almost unscathed. Injuries hurt, despite the healing coursing through their veins, and they could damage a mission. The only thing they wouldn't do was make a heartless die.

They were in the shuttle heading back when the man responsible for the main failure collapsed, clutching his chest. Technoblade, only sixteen, watched in horror as the man choked, the rest of the ship going on like nothing was wrong. The man died, terminated for failure, one too many as he'd find out. Technoblade hadn't had his heart in years, but he almost thought he could feel it seizing in his chest, the gaping void turning hungry and tearing him to nothing. The same blank in the man's eyes.

He went to bed haunted. He woke up to the same apathy as ever, emotions gone now the Federation had given their warning. The memory remained.

(Technoblade himself had his heart removed when he was seven, when he started showing potential for the army. Strength, speed, an interest in strategy. He doesn't remember much of the process. Just the screams, and an angry tearing feeling grown muted with age. He doesn't even remember what it was like to have a heart. He lost his family in the same moment, shut into private training and missions not long after.)

It was after another mission that things changed. The operation had been a large one, with multiple units working in tandem to do... something. The higher ups didn't give much information as to the what or why of a situation unless directly relevant to the soldiers role in the mission. It's only afterward that Technoblade finds it was a raid. Countless empire citizens are taken, one of which is claimed to be the emperor's youngest son. A blond kid joins Technoblade's squad, spitting and angry and with his heart newly gone. He's from the Empire, though no one goes directly out and says it. He's trained, they say. But wrong, differently from Federation tactics, and it's obvious.

Technoblade is assigned to watch him, this kid who yells and jokes and still puts too much emphasis on names when no one there counts as a person, Tommy, his name is, as he insists, growing louder with each repetition until Technoblade caves. "Tommy, then."

Tommy isn't going to mention that using the name will lead his brother and father right to them. He's furious, stuck, and glad to see it all burn. Except, well. They don't get there right away. And as he learns more about the gaping wound in his chest (not as bad as the rest, though he doesn't know that, not as smothered in magic and death), he realizes how little freedom they have, how little personality they're allowed, how little emotion. But Technoblade is funny. In a dry, sarcastic way, like he's afraid if he sounds too real then they're going to off him. And as scary as Technoblade is, he never hurts Tommy. And Tommy isn't silly enough to believe that's because he can't. He doesn't. He's only scary when either Tommy or the mission is at risk. Technoblade cares, and Tommy, still full of rage, is going to steal him. He's going to give him a family. He's going to make sure that every bit of his humor and genius and kindness belongs to the empire, to them, to his family. Technoblade is theirs, and he doesn't even know who he's got.

The Emperor, as it turns out, is not happy with the alleged capture of his youngest, an age still technically older than Technoblade, though perhaps not in looks or maturity. The Empire doesn't have heartless, but they do have their own magic, and it's rumored to include immortality.

They strike hard and fast, capturing or killing a many forces as they can as they push towards the Federation's center, their heart. The Federation is in shambles, scrambling to adjust to the change in tactics resulting from a move they thought would lead to surrender. Or negotiations, at the very least. No. The Empire is out to kill, heedless of their own losses in the rampage to get their prince back. Someone is leaking information (the Empire doesn't have heartless, had no information on the nature of their existence, but Tommy has intimate experience with what it's like to be one, knows their triggers and controls and where the hearts are kept).

Tommy is pulled off of Technoblade's force and vanishes. Technoblade himself is called back to the capital, still with aching wounds from battle after battle as the Empire mounts their assault.

Everything is fine. Everything is within their calculations, the heartless can't die, they can't die, he can't die, all they need to do is stop this- and his men start falling. The facility is a maze, a labyrinth, meant to be entirely secure. The heartless have never known where their hearts are kept within the compound, secrets and lies another barrier to their escape, but they found it and Technoblade gets the call to head to the secret room at the center of the building. The hearts can carry information, the magic a link between the heart's enchanter and the weapon they control.

Maybe there's a fleeting thought that he can take his heart, grab it and go, escape the chaos and save his men. Or maybe he feels nothing at all, winding through halls of fallen heartless.

The doors open whooshing back to reveal the emperor and his eldest son. Smashed containers line the walls, broken hearts left to bleed.

And Technoblade feels a throb of fear. Distant, echoing out from the hearts place in the Emperor's hands. "Hello Technoblade." The Emperor smiles, and Technoblade is frozen in place. The empire didn't know about the hearts, once, but they learn fast and the stiffness of his limbs is more than fear. He tries to speak, but even words die in his throat. "We've been waiting for you."

The heart is tossed from one tyrant to the next, and Technoblade tries to breathe as the Emperor takes him by the arm. He's still smiling as he leads Technoblade out, through desolate halls filled with corpses of his men, all while false affection pumps through his veins at the direction of the hands that hold his heart.

"All for your own good," they say. "Not all the heartless were slain," they explain, talking about rehabilitation, good lives waiting for the heartless soldiers. "We'll give you everything," they promise him, draping him in medals, offering food and riches and blankets and clothing the likes of which he's never seen. "You're one of us," they swear, as another prince to the empire is crowned.

But they never give his heart back, not like they do Tommy who is whole the instant all of him is found. They never let him hold it, rarely let him see it, keep it as a prize. Never let him wander, or flee the prison of gold. And maybe it's because they worry he won't stay without the hands on his heart, feeding him devotion, binding him carefully with loyalty and fear. Maybe they worry who he would be without their touch, with emotions completely his own again. Technoblade wonders too. He'll never know.

Technoblade is a prince---one of few---who is completely devoted to the Empire.

He has no choice.

Congrats on getting the Lenn treatment because I kinda took this ask hostage for a month like I do with their AUs lol. Just a testament to me enjoying them, thank you for the tasty treat Anon.

[book--brackets]

The Two Princesses of Bamarre by Gail Carson Levine (2001)

Twelve-year-old Addie admires her older sister Meryl, who aspires to rid the kingdom of Bamarre of gryphons, specters, and ogres. Addie, on the other hand, is fearful even of spiders and depends on Meryl for courage and protection. Waving her sword Bloodbiter, the older girl declaims in the garden from the heroic epic of Drualt to a thrilled audience of Addie, their governess, and the young sorcerer Rhys. 

But when Meryl falls ill with the dreaded Gray Death, Addie must gather her courage and set off alone on a quest to find the cure and save her beloved sister. Addie takes the seven-league boots and magic spyglass left to her by her mother and the enchanted tablecloth and cloak given to her by Rhys - along with a shy declaration of his love. She prevails in encounters with tricky specters (spiders too) and outwits a wickedly personable dragon in adventures touched with romance and a bittersweet ending.

Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn by Tad Williams (1988-1992)

A war fueled by the powers of dark sorcery is about to engulf the peaceful land of Osten Ard—for Prester John, the High King, lies dying. And with his death, the Storm King, the undead ruler of the elf-like Sithi, seizes the chance to regain his lost realm through a pact with the newly ascended king. Knowing the consequences of this bargain, the king’s younger brother joins with a small, scattered group of scholars, the League of the Scroll, to confront the true danger threatening Osten Ard.

Simon, a kitchen boy from the royal castle unknowingly apprenticed to a member of this League, will be sent on a quest that offers the only hope of salvation, a deadly riddle concerning long-lost swords of power. Compelled by fate and perilous magics, he must leave the only home he’s ever known and face enemies more terrifying than Osten Ard has ever seen, even as the land itself begins to die.

Starbound by Amie Kaufman and Meagan Spooner (2013-2015)

It's a night like any other on board the Icarus. Then, catastrophe strikes: the massive luxury spaceliner is yanked out of hyperspace and plummets into the nearest planet. Lilac LaRoux and Tarver Merendsen survive. And they seem to be alone. 

Lilac is the daughter of the richest man in the universe. Tarver comes from nothing, a young war hero who learned long ago that girls like Lilac are more trouble than they're worth. But with only each other to rely on, Lilac and Tarver must work together, making a tortuous journey across the eerie, deserted terrain to seek help. 

Then, against all odds, Lilac and Tarver find a strange blessing in the tragedy that has thrown them into each other's arms. Without the hope of a future together in their own world, they begin to wonder-would they be better off staying here forever? 

Everything changes when they uncover the truth behind the chilling whispers that haunt their every step. Lilac and Tarver may find a way off this planet. But they won't be the same people who landed on it.

Skulduggery Pleasant by Derek Landy (2004-2024)

Meet the great Skulduggery Pleasant: wise-cracking detective, powerful magician, master of dirty tricks and burglary (in the name of the greater good, of course). Oh yeah. And dead.

Then there's his sidekick, Stephanie. She's… well, she's a twelve-year-old girl. With a pair like this on the case, evil had better watch out…

Stephanie's uncle Gordon is a writer of horror fiction. But when he dies and leaves her his estate, Stephanie learns that while he may have written horror, it certainly wasn't fiction. Pursued by evil forces intent on recovering a mysterious key, Stephanie finds help from an unusual source – the wisecracking skeleton of a dead wizard.

When all hell breaks loose, it's lucky for Skulduggery that he's already dead. Though he's about to discover that being a skeleton doesn't stop you from being tortured, if the torturer is determined enough. And if there's anything Skulduggery hates, it's torture… Will evil win the day? Will Stephanie and Skulduggery stop bickering long enough to stop it? One thing's for sure: evil won't know what's hit it.

Fairest by Gail Carson Levine (2006)

Once upon a time, there was a girl who wanted to be pretty . . .

Aza's singing is the fairest in all the land, and the most unusual. She can throw her voice so it seems to come from anywhere. But singing is only one of the two qualities prized in the Kingdom of Ayortha. Aza doesn't possess the other: beauty. Not even close. She's hidden in the shadows in her parents' inn, but when she becomes lady-in-waiting to the new queen, she has to step into the light--especially when the queen demands a dangerous favor. A magic mirror, a charming prince, a jealous queen, palace intrigue, and an injured king twine into a maze that Aza must penetrate to save herself and her beloved kingdom.

Trickster's Duology by Tamora Pierce (2003-2004)

Alianne is the teenage daughter of the famed Alanna, the first lady knight in Tortall. Young Aly follows in the quieter footsteps of her father, however, delighting in the art of spying. When she is captured and sold as a slave to an exiled royal family in the faraway Copper Islands, it is this skill that makes a difference in a world filled with political intrigue, murderous conspiracy, and warring gods. This is the first of two books featuring Alianne.

Monstress by Marjorie M. Liu (2015-present)

Set in an alternate matriarchal 1900's Asia, in a richly imagined world of art deco-inflected steam punk, MONSTRESS tells the story of a teenage girl who is struggling to survive the trauma of war, and who shares a mysterious psychic link with a monster of tremendous power, a connection that will transform them both and make them the target of both human and otherworldly powers.

Lockwood & Co by Jonathan Stroud (2013-2017)

When the dead come back to haunt the living, Lockwood & Co. step in . . .

For more than fifty years, the country has been affected by a horrifying epidemic of ghosts. A number of Psychic Investigations Agencies have sprung up to destroy the dangerous apparitions.

Lucy Carlyle, a talented young agent, arrives in London hoping for a notable career. Instead she finds herself joining the smallest, most ramshackle agency in the city, run by the charismatic Anthony Lockwood. When one of their cases goes horribly wrong, Lockwood & Co. have one last chance of redemption. Unfortunately this involves spending the night in one of the most haunted houses in England, and trying to escape alive.

Protector of the Small by Tamora Pierce (1999-2002)

Keladry of Mindelan is the first girl who dares to take advantage of a new rule in Tortall—one that allows females to train for knighthood. After years in the Yamani Islands, she knows that women can be warriors, and now that she’s returned home, Kel is determined to achieve her goal. She believes she is ready for the traditional hazing and grueling schedule of a page. But standing in Kel’s way is Lord Wyldon. The training master is dead set against girls becoming knights. He says she must pass a one-year trial that no male page has ever had to endure. It’s just one more way to separate Kel from her fellow trainees. But she is not to be underestimated. She will fight to succeed, even when the test is unfair.

Falling Kingdoms by Morgan Rhodes (2012-2018)

Princess Cleo of Mytica confronts violence for the first time in her life when a shocking murder sets her kingdom on a path to collapse. Once a privileged royal, Cleo must now summon the strength to survive in this new world and fight for her rightful place as Queen. 

 The King of Limeros's son, Magnus, must plan each footstep with shrewd, sharp guile if he is to earn his powerful father's trust, while his sister, Lucia, discovers a terrifying secret about her heritage that will change everything. 

 Rebellious Jonas lashes out against the forces of oppression that have kept his country cruelly impoverished--and finds himself the leader of a people's revolution centuries in the making. 

 Witches, if found, are put to death, and Watchers, immortal beings who take the shape of hawks to visit the human world, have been almost entirely forgotten. A vicious power struggle quickly escalates to war, and these four young people collide against each other and the rise of elementia, the magic that can topple kingdoms and crown a ruler in the same day.

[random-movie-ideas]

Essential Characters to Include in a Captain Marvel/Shazam Series

These are the most essential basics that should always be included:

Billy Batson AKA Captain Marvel/Shazam

Mary Bromfield/Batson AKA Mary Marvel

Freddy Freeman AKA Captain Marvel Jr.

Doctor Thaddeus Sivana

Teth-Adam AKA Black Adam

These aren't quite so essential, but I'd rather have them than not:

The Wizard Shazam

Adrianna Tomaz AKA Isis

Mister Mind

Baron Albrecht Krieger AKA Captain Nazi

Timothy Karnes AKA Sabbac

These aren't necessary, but including them will get you a thumbs up:

Lori Zechlin AKA Black Alice

Uncle Dudley H. Dudley

Amon Tomaz AKA Osiris

Mister Atom

Stanley Printwhistle AKA Ibac

The Seven Deadly Enemies of Man